The Mentalist: In the Red
by Donnamour1969
Summary: 5th in my Season 3 AU series. An ill-advised night of passion comes back to bite Jane and Lisbon, leading to blackmail and revenge. Established Jisbon. Rated T/M for language,violence,and Jisbon sexytimes. No copyright infringement intended
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome to the fifth story in my season three/four AU series. If you'd like to go back and read this series from the beginning, please click on my name and start with "Red Ryder." If you don't feel like doing that, go ahead and read this one; I'll try to catch you up as I go along, and hopefully you won't feel too lost.

This story picks up where "Red Tape" left off, only a few months later. Imagine that this coincides with what happened in the last few episodes of season three, including the finale, and we are now updated to real time, season 4. Of course, this is AU, so Lisbon and Jane are a couple but have been hiding their romance for months now. So now, without further adieu…

**In the Red, Chapter 1**

"This is ridiculous," said Jane to himself, as he pulled into the CBI parking lot at the start of a typical work day.

Here he was again, rolling into work by himself when only an hour before he was rolling in bed with Lisbon. They'd driven their separate cars so as not to risk suspicion of their romance. They'd been keeping their relationship a secret for nearly a year now, and Jane was even more in love with her than he'd ever been, but the secrecy was beginning to wear on him, and driving separate cars was just a symbol of how silly it was for two grown adults to have to hide their true feelings.

It was ironic, really, considering he was the king of secrets and lies, but more than ever he wanted to tell everyone what they meant to each other, to proudly walk in with the woman he loved on his arm for all the CBI world to see. But there were rules against that kind of thing, and Lisbon's job was too important to both of them to jeopardize it, especially after the mistakes of the last few months. They were both under a very powerful microscope, and its name was Gale Bertram.

Lisbon pulled in at that moment, pointedly parking a few spaces away, and he got out of his car to walk into the building with her, smelling of her shampoo and still feeling the languor of their early morning interlude.

"This is ridiculous," he repeated softly as they walked into the building. "Not to mention that it adversely affects my carbon footprint."

She rolled her eyes. "If you really cared about the environment, you'd buy a vehicle built after 1975."

"You're missing the point here, Lisbon."

She sighed. "We talked about this last night, Jane. And the day before. And the day before that. I don't think it's a good idea."

He held the door for her and they were forced to drop the conversation, as they smiled in passing to coworkers from other sections of the CBI. Everyone was used to seeing the consultant and the diminutive team leader of the Serious Crimes Unit together. _No one would really be surprised if they knew we were lovers,_ thought Jane petulantly. _Cho figured it out months ago, and he's happy for us._

They rode up in the elevator amidst arriving assistants, secretaries and agents, Jane fairly simmering inside with suppressed annoyance. This new boss of theirs (replacing Lisbon, since her suspension made her lose the unit director job), Luther Wainwright, seemed like a reasonable young man, and he was in awe of Jane, (of course) so surely he would help them find some way of getting around the CBI's rule prohibiting team members from being romantically involved. Such a sharp, innovative thinker would see the merit in keeping Jane around. Hell, Jane had already told Bertram there would be problems if Lisbon didn't stay on the team, so that base was covered. Convincing Wainwright should be a piece of cake. He'd told Lisbon all of this last night. And the night before. And the night before that, but to no avail.

Jane reached a brave finger out to touch Lisbon's hand surreptitiously as they stood in the back of the elevator, innocently facing forward. She let him feel her warm skin for a brief moment before moving her hand out of his reach. She heard his offended little huff and shot him a sideways glance of warning.

The elevator door slid open and Jane and Lisbon were the last ones out, then, with a fleeting glance, they went their separate ways—Lisbon to her office, Jane to make his morning tea. He had just filled the teakettle when a familiar but unwelcome voice greeted him.

"Jane, might I have a word?"

He turned to see Bertram, as if he'd summoned him from his very thoughts.

"Good morning, Gale," Jane said pleasantly, purposefully ignoring the man's serious expression.

Bertram was having none of it. "There's an empty office down the hall. We should really discuss this in private."

Jane raised an eyebrow, but followed his de facto boss, noticing that he carried a suspicious manila envelope like it contained the mysteries of the universe.

They entered the unoccupied room and Bertram shut the door, then the blinds, naturally taking the more comfortable chair behind the empty desk. Jane sat in the hard chair before it, crossing his legs in an attempt to get comfortable.

"So, what can I do for you?" Jane asked, sizing up the man's demeanor. "You seem very troubled. How can I help?"

"I wonder if you heard that horrible sound yesterday afternoon?"

"Sound?" Jane inquired curiously.

"Yes, of the shit hitting the proverbial fan. That's what has happened to this unit, and so that's what is about to happen to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Seems the State AG got wind of what went down with the Fowler case. He's ordering an official investigation into the CBI, and specifically this unit. His re-election bid stems on his promise to fight government corruption. The way you skirted the law, basically blackmailing a state senator to find the killer, isn't sitting well with our esteemed Attorney General. He's hoping to make an example of us."

"Through my minor subterfuge—and it _was_ minor—I got a child killer off the streets. I'm not sorry, and I don't give a rat's ass what the AG thinks. I did what I had to do, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Bertram sat forward, leaning his arms on the desk, shaking his head in disappointment. "I thought you might say that. I've warned you time and time again, Jane, to stop these antics. Madeleine Hightower wasn't successful in reigning you in, nor was LaRoche, and from what I heard, neither was Minelli. Now Wainwright—for whom I'd had very high hopes—has allowed the most public breach of lawful behavior to happen under his watch. So, what's a CBI director to do?"

"How do you solve a problem like Patrick Jane, eh Gale?" Jane mocked with a grin on his face and absolutely no sympathy for this man whom he considered a politically motivated blowhard.

"So, here's what's gonna happen, Jane. You're going to fully cooperate with the investigation, and you're going to apologize personally to Senator Spears, then to the AG himself, swearing on your life you'll never do another illegal thing in the name of the CBI for the rest of your possibly limited remaining time as a consultant. You'll say you made a mistake, didn't realize what you did was unlawful. Is that clear?"

Jane regarded him dispassionately. He certainly had no intention of apologizing. He'd cooperate to the extent that he felt comfortable, but there'd be no swearing of oaths, no guarantees of anything.

"I thought ignorance of the law was no excuse," Jane said in the tone that had earned him the title of _smart-ass_ among every employer he'd ever had.

"So, that's your final answer, is it?"

"Can I phone a friend?"

Bertram smirked, then looked down at the envelope he'd been absently fingering. He opened the brad and pulled out a stack of four photographs, then pushed them across the table to Jane. Jane reached casually for them, and his amused expression froze on his face as he looked down at them.

The pictures were of a couple having sex, obviously very intense about it, the man on top, pinning the woman's hands above her on a familiar brown couch. Jane's heart began to pound violently. In the first two shots, the lovers' identities were unclear. But the third and fourth pictures were close-ups of their faces, and Jane looked up from them in dismay that not even he could mask.

"That son-of-a-bitch," he muttered angrily, tossing the damning photographs back on the desk.

"Aww," Betram said smugly, "I see you know how I came by these little beauties. So, since you seem so fond of blackmail, I felt you might take my suggestions more to heart if I offered you something by way of...motivation."

"We didn't do anything illegal here, you bastard," said Jane, deadly calm.

"No, that's certainly true. You're two consenting adults, engaging in what appears to be a very enjoyable tête-à-tête. Against CBI's rules, however? Yes, I don't think there's a finer illustration of that than this."

"I'll just quit and be done with it, and watch your crime solving ratios drop."

Bertram leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and regarding Jane as he would a bug under that microscope he'd compared him to earlier.

"I don't think you'll do that, Jane, because it's not just your job at stake here, is it? I could fire Lisbon outright for this, you realize, or bust her down to a desk job. Or, even worse, ruin her entire reputation by leaking these photos to the press. She'll never be taken seriously again. Sure, the CBI would take a small hit, but we'd recover the minute the next sex scandal came along. So, I think you'll keep your job, and you'll do it better than you ever have—minus the shenanigans, of course."

Jane's hands were in tight fists on the armrests, his thought processes totally frozen. Bertram continued his monologue, his condescending tone increasing in proportion to his new confidence that he had Jane firmly in his itching palm.

"Over the last year and a half, I've watched the two of you, how much you obviously care about each other, how you cover for one another, stick up for each other. It's quite touching, really. That's why I don't think you'll throw Lisbon to the wolves like this. And you won't quit either, because you need the CBI too much; you don't have anything else going for you. So it would appear, Mr. Jane, that from this point forward, I _own_ you."

Jane's stricken face became bland once more as he got control of his emotions and began to think logically. He tried desperately to turn the situation around, and what better way to do that than some taunts and threats of his own?

"I really don't think you have the balls to do anything that you say, Gale. Any scandal that rocks this boat could very well sink yours come time for employee evaluations. Add blackmail to that list, and you might even see prison time, once the AG's bloodhounds get through with you. And you can bet I'd fully cooperate with _that_ investigation."

The two men stared each other down, and finally, Bertram laughed. "You're bluffing, Jane. Nice try, though, really. You're quite good at the mentalism stuff I've heard so much about. You're not trying to hypnotize me now, are you?" He laughed again, and Jane tried desperately to tamp down his fury.

"Look, Jane, I'm really sorry it had to come to this, but I did warn you. Just go back out there, get on with your life, keep solving those cases. Hell, keep having your fun with Agent Lisbon, for all I care—none of my business—unless, of course, it interferes with the business of the CBI."

Jane rose to his feet, his only way of towering over the taller man as he sat in his borrowed chair. His voice was tight and dangerous.

"Let me tell you something, you sanctimonious ass. I got rid of J.J. LaRoche when he crossed me, and I'll have no qualms getting rid of you at my first opportunity. Do we understand one another?"

For the first time, Bertram caught a glimpse of what Patrick Jane looked like when he was cornered, and he had to admit to himself that it was actually a pretty frightening sight. He had no doubt Jane's words were true about LaRoche. Despite his injuries, LaRoche seemed to have left a promising career too suddenly for it to have just been about an old flame. And it certainly explained why LaRoche had felt enough malice toward Jane to send him those pictures. Bertram realized that he'd better take precautions and watch his own back in this dangerous game he'd begun.

"I think we understand each other perfectly, Mr. Jane. And I'll try to protect your job the best I can from the AG. No guarantees there, I'm afraid. He sort of outranks me. So, you see, your best bet all around is to show your complete cooperation with his office's investigation, and do exactly what I tell you to do from now on. Good day to you, Jane." He gave a disingenuous smile, nodding dismissively toward the door.

Jane turned abruptly without another word, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. He was seething, his breath coming in harsh pants, his heart still beating as if he'd just finished a marathon. His first impulse was to run to Lisbon, but he checked himself after walking a few feet back down the hall.

Should he tell Lisbon about the photos? Should he tell her how Bertram was blackmailing him? He wanted to, more than anything. Once he'd finally opened up to her, revealed all his secrets about Red John, he'd become surprisingly used to being honest with her. On one hand, she had a right to know about this—it affected her life and job too, after all. But on the other hand, she would just become worried and angry, maybe do something stupid, like confess and try to undercut Bertram's blackmail attempt.

He sighed, realizing he needed to think about this, to calm himself down and try to make the most rational decision he could. He went to the stairwell and climbed up to the familiar door of his attic retreat. The padlock was gone now—Lisbon had had it removed the moment LaRoche had left-and he slid open the door. But it was too late.

Gone were his bed and his chair and desk, replaced now by old office furniture, stacked nearly to the roof and blocking the pleasant light that had once streamed in through the windows. Boxes, crates and filing cabinets took up all the remaining space, and Jane regarded all with a sense of abject loss. He hadn't needed this place for months, because Lisbon had been his refuge.

LaRoche had ruined this attic for him, and now Bertram was trying to ruin everything else he found enjoyable about working here. He allowed himself a moment of self-pity, hanging his head and closing his eyes against the pain of it all, feeling the hatred settle over him like a comforting blanket. His heart told him to go to Lisbon, but his head was saying something completely different.

A year ago, there wouldn't have been a question; he'd have obviously kept any secret from her that might endanger her or threaten her job. But all she'd ever asked of him was honesty, and she'd nearly left him when his dishonesty had finally taken its toll on her. He didn't think he could bear going through that again. Those pictures had captured his desperation at that time, when he'd sought to seduce her back into staying with him, careless of who might have been watching them. He'd been out of his mind with fear of losing her then and that mistake had been what had come back to bite him on the ass. It was that realization that finally made up his mind.

He'd go tell Lisbon what Bertram was doing, then he'd gather the team together and confess all to them. They'd work together to come up with a solution, just like they'd done to flush out Red John's mole, just like they'd done to get the team back together when he'd been exonerated of killing Carter. Sure, there were risks, not the least of which would be how Rigsby and Van Pelt would react to their flouting the rules that had ruined _their_ relationship. But he had faith in them. They might be pissed off at first, but they were his friends, and he hoped they would be supportive once they heard that Bertram was blackmailing them.

Jane felt the first rays of hope since seeing Bertram slid those damn pictures to him. The bastard would get what was coming to him, and Jane would get to keep Lisbon and their jobs. At least, that was the plan. As Jane well knew, the best-laid schemes of mice and CBI consultants often go awry…

A/N: Okay, so that's the set-up. Next chapter will have more dialogue and less exposition, and more from Lisbon and the rest of the gang. I hope this caught your interest enough to review. I always get a little antsy about my fics when I don't use enough dialogue. My greatest fear is boring you, and that you skipped over paragraphs to try to find the good stuff. So I'm asking for some encouragement now. You still with me out there? Anyone?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I wasn't being coy with my author's notes on my first chapter—I really was unsure how much you would like it. The reaction has been really positive and encouraging, and I thank you all! So, here is the next chapter, which, if I were entitling them, would be called "The Cat's Out of the Bag." It has much more dialogue, and I feel more confident whenever that happens.

**Chapter 2**

"He what?" Lisbon nearly yelled. She rose from her office chair, despite Jane's warning that she might want to sit down. Jane himself was reclining comfortably on her great white couch.

"Hush, Lisbon," he cautioned, looking pointedly toward the door. "I think Bertram's had these pictures for awhile now," he told her in a low voice. "I'm sure it was LaRoche's final dig at me before he left. Damn, I almost admire him for—"

He caught her expression of shock and awe and he almost grinned. "Look, what's done is done. The important thing here is we zero in on Bertram now and get his ass out too, to follow his buddy LaRoche. And I think we should ask the rest of the team to help us do it."

"No," she refused vehemently. "The very idea that they might see me—_us_—having—doing-" Her arms flailed helplessly. "No way. We'll handle this on our own. The fewer people who know our business, the better, don't you think? Besides, haven't we involved them way too much lately? They've gone way above and beyond…"

"True," said Jane, "but I'm not sure we can do this alone, Lisbon. Not sure I want to."

Her expression was still one of shock, but she was beginning to calm down and re-engage her brain. What he just said was nearly as surprising as the unexpected blackmail threat, however. Her expression suddenly changed to amusement.

"Patrick Jane, the original Lone Ranger, is actually asking for help. On purpose. What is that, three times in as many months?"

Jane shrugged, not the least bit embarrassed. "I really do learn from my mistakes, Lisbon. And if I'm the Lone Ranger you're definitely Mother Ter—"

"Don't!" she interrupted, holding her hands up to forestall him finishing the exaggerated moniker. "I'm obviously no saint, Jane. I've starred in an amateur porn video, now, remember?"

"But if it's any consolation to you, I think your performance was just a wee bit better than amateur, Lisbon. Although clearly, I was doing most of the work that night…" His lips quirked wickedly, but she put her face in her hands and groaned in mortification at the thought of anyone watching her on that damned video. She, herself had only been brave enough to watch it once.

"No one's going to see the video," he reminded her, his teasing tone adjusting quickly to consoling. "LaRoche gave it to me, and it's currently hidden in a very safe place. He'd obviously had stills printed from it, and I have no idea how many of those are out there…"

"Wait—you kept it?" She dropped her hands from her face. "I thought we'd agreed you'd destroy it."

She watched in wonder as he actually blushed a little. "But it's really hot, Lisbon," he said sheepishly. Her face contorted in disgust.

"How many times have you watched that thing?"

"Well…"

"Jane! Oh, my God! That's just—I have no words." She shook her head in dismay, hands flying to her face again.

He got up and went around her desk, pulling her by the arm to join him again on the couch. He had to push her on the shoulders a little to get her to bend her knees and sit.

"We have nothing to be ashamed of, Lisbon. But you're focusing on the wrong thing here. Instead of embarrassment, how about some good old-fashioned Lisbon ire? We're being blackmailed. Don't you feel like punching Bertram in the nose?"

"I'd like to do more than that to the sick pervert," she said angrily.

Jane grinned. "That's my girl. I'll tell the team we're meeting and that's the angle we take, okay? It doesn't matter what he's got on us, he's using it to control us, to threaten the loss of our jobs. After the initial shock, Rigsby and Van Pelt will want to kill him too." _Especially __Van__Pelt, _Jane thought, _given __her __recent __vigilante __rage __against __every __man __guilty __of __crimes __against __women._

"Oh, Lord, Jane. What will they think of us? They'll see us as total hypocrites."

Jane put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. "We tried to protect those two when they were having their affair. It was Hightower that busted them, not you. Actually, they did it to themselves, being so indiscreet and obvious to everyone."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're calling _them_ indiscreet? Have you seen the video?" she said sarcastically.

"Okay, so we made one mistake in a year, sweetheart. Rigsby and Van Pelt chose to break up rather than trying to compromise to hang on to their relationship. If it comes out about us, I won't give up. I'll do anything to keep you, Teresa. We'll just cross that bridge if we come to it."

He reached for her hand and met her eyes, his soulful and earnest, hers suddenly full of love and gratitude. She broke her own rule about office displays of affection and reached up to kiss him. It was deep and sweet and quick, but she took solace in the brief heat of his mouth. No matter what happened, she wasn't going to lose this. She would fight for this man who had become everything to her, who had even begun to replace her career in the top spot of importance in her life, in her heart.

Reluctantly, she broke away from him, but she knew the tang of herbal tea would hang on her lips the rest of the horrific day to come, calming her and reminding her that this wonderful man was behind her.

"Okay," she sighed. "Go tell them."

He squeezed her hand, and with one more smacking kiss, he grinned his reassurance and left her office to get things rolling.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Secret meeting, Lisbon's, six o'clock," Jane had told each team member quietly in passing. They looked askance, of course, but there was no question they'd all be there.

"How can you be so calm," Lisbon asked as she paced in her living room after work. He was sitting on her couch, his feet up on the coffee table, sipping from his teacup.

He barked out a humorless laugh. "You should have seen me in Bertram's office earlier. I strongly considered killing the bastard, and this time I would have been sure I'd gotten the right person."

Lisbon frowned, still overly sensitive about the days of hell right after he'd shot Timothy Carter instead of Red John. "Not funny, Jane."

He nodded. "I know; I wasn't trying to be. But this concerns our jobs, not our lives, right?"

"Yeah," she began somewhat skeptically, but then a knock interrupted her rejoinder, and she went to the door. Jane set down his cup and stood, wondering if it were too late to back out of this whole business.

Their three friends had come together, believing there would be nothing suspicious in the five of them socializing after hours. They entered Lisbon's apartment, their faces masks of concern. Jane didn't blame them; the last few times they'd met like this had to do with either finding a serial killer or saving their jobs. No wonder they were steeling themselves against the worst.

"Please, have a seat everybody. Anyone want coffee? Soda? Whiskey?" Lisbon suggested hopefully. She really needed a drink.

They each shook their heads and alighted on the couch and chairs scattered about the room. They no doubt wanted to get to the point of this clandestine meeting.

"I suppose you're all wondering why I called you here tonight," he began in amusement. "I've always wanted to say that."

"Jane—" Lisbon said warningly, his inappropriate humor fraying her last nerve.

"Sorry. Everyone looks so serious, I just thought I'd break the tension. None of you are in trouble, or in danger of life or limb, but we thought you had the right to know what's going on to prepare you for what could happen concerning your jobs-which are safe, by the way, Rigsby," Jane singled him out directly. "But things could be a lot different around the Serious Crimes Unit if things go south."

"Someone found out, didn't they?" Cho asked in his usual bland tone. All eyes were drawn to him, some suspicious, some resigned.

"Yes," Lisbon said, acknowledging for the first time that she knew that _he_ knew about her relationship with Jane.

"Found out what?" Van Pelt pressed impatiently. "Would someone please tell us what's going on here?"

Lisbon glanced at Jane and he nodded. They'd agreed she'd be the one to tell her team.

"Jane and I are—well, we're together. As a couple. We've been seeing each other for nearly a year now. Since last Thanksgiving, to be exact."

There was a gasp of surprise from Van Pelt, and a "No way!" from the shocked Rigsby.

Jane couldn't help smiling a little in satisfaction at how well they'd kept this secret from two of the best detectives he knew.

"It's true, Wayne," he said. "We have kept it quiet because we knew the impossibility of the situation, and frankly, we wanted to have our cake and eat it too. Sorry if this seems like a slap in the face to you and Grace, considering all you went through with your relationship, but you guys chose to confess; we're just a little sneakier, I suppose."

Grace looked from her boss to the consultant, unsure really how to feel. She'd had her suspicions that things were different between them, but she never dreamed Lisbon (_especially_ Lisbon) would jeopardize her career in this way. And Jane—he risked losing his inside scoop into the investigation of Red John. But she supposed now that Red John was dead, he was free to go on with his life, and fear of losing his job with the CBI wasn't as big a deal now. The man could do anything he wanted. She felt a twinge of envy when she thought of Lisbon, though. She obviously loved Jane more than her job. It made Grace wonder how different things might have been had she been a little less ambitious, herself. She glanced at Rigsby, who was staring intently at his shoes.

"I gotta hand it to you two," Van Pelt said finally. "You are much better at keeping secrets than Wayne and I ever were."

Lisbon only nodded, because she found there was really nothing else she could think of to say.

A thought occurred to Rigsby, and he looked suspiciously at Cho. "How long have you known about this?"

"Nearly from the beginning. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen."

RIgsby and Grace looked at one another, then back at Cho. They remembered Cho hinting that Jane and Lisbon might be involved, but it always seemed too farfetched to be true.

"I guess we didn't want to listen," said Van Pelt.

"So," Cho asked Jane, "who found out? Wainwright? Bertram?"

"Bertram," Jane confirmed.

"What?" Van Pelt said. "How?"

"There are sort of…surveillance photos," Jane said. Lisbon blushed and turned away. Everyone understood immediately.

"He's blackmailing you," said Rigsby.

"Yes," Jane replied.

"That asshole!" Van Pelt erupted. "I knew I hated that man!"

"Grace," said Rigsby calmly, his hand going to her arm. She looked at her former lover and immediately composed herself.

"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed now at her own outburst.

"What does he want?" asked Cho.

"Why, to control me, of course," Jane supplied in amusement. "It would seem I'm to be his puppet. Also, I sort of brought on an internal investigation by the Attorney General…" He went on to explain the important details from his meeting with Bertram. While the team listened raptly, Lisbon continued her nervous pacing.

So far, their reaction to her affair with Jane hadn't been as horrible as she'd predicted. She knew Rigsby and Van Pelt must be somewhat put out that their relationship hadn't survived when Lisbon's and Jane's had. But Jane had been right; they'd just been more discreet about it. Well, if you didn't count having sex in the bullpen, that is.

"What's the plan, Boss," asked Rigsby when Jane had finished his tale.

Lisbon stopped her pacing and went to stand by Jane. Automatically, Jane reached out to take her hand, and for the first time, in the open, their three coworkers got to see an affectionate exchange between them. Rigsby and Van Pelt couldn't tear their eyes away from their joined hands at first, and when Lisbon began to self-consciously extricate her hand, Jane squeezed more tightly. The cat was out of the bag; there was no need to hide anymore. She swallowed and squeezed back, and he caught her eye encouragingly.

"I just want you to know that I don't expect you to help us out here," Lisbon began. "We've been deceiving you for months, and might not have told you at all had Bertram not interfered."

"We would have told you," Jane contradicted. "I was working on persuading her to open up about us. It was getting to the point where I couldn't stand it anymore. When you love someone, you want to tell the world," he said softly, bringing Lisbon's hand to his mouth.

"Love?" Van Pelt said involuntarily. That Grace had been somewhat sour on love lately was an understatement, having been burned in the most unimaginable way by her own fiancé. Not too long ago, she had been such a hopeless romantic, but now she was frightened at how skeptical she was about love being real for anyone. Her eyes welled up, seeing these two people, whom she admired above all others she worked with, apparently head over heels for one another. She wanted to believe what she was seeing, but she'd been so burned by love herself that she didn't wholly trust what was right before her eyes.

"Yes." It was Lisbon who spoke now, strong and assured. There was no way she could deny her feelings for Jane; she wouldn't have been able to if anyone had asked her point blank, even before today. "I love him very much." And then she grinned. "Against my better judgment sometimes, but I do."

Everyone went silent as the happy couple exchanged unspoken sentiments with their eyes.

"Wow," Rigsby said finally, and everyone laughed at the understatement.

The tension thus released, Jane took over (as he was wont to do) the hatching of his latest scheme to get them out of trouble—or possibly more deeply _into_ trouble—it could depend on something as simple as the weather, or the day of the week. One never knew with Jane's plans.

A/N: You might have noticed that I'm going along with the show, with Jane allowing everyone (but Lisbon) to believe he shot Red John. I'll try to address that issue somewhat in my fic, but I want to see how that plays out on the show in order to incorporate it into this story.

Thanks for reading this chapter. Please let me know what you thought!

P.S.: I've heard a lot of great things about tonight's episode, directed by Simon Baker. I'm very excited and hopeful that there will be lots of fodder for an episode tag. And if you've watched the Canadian promo, there's a HUGE spoiler (or at least it seems that way). You can find the CTV promo on youtube.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for all the great feedback! I really appreciate it! This chapter takes a sort of silly turn. You might have to suspend your disbelief a little, lol. Many of you regular readers know I tend to go for the absurd, so you'll be expecting it. You newbies, please bear with me and just go with it…please? Hope you like it!

**Chapter 3**

_**Three days later…**_

"Okay, it's official," Jane said, proudly slapping a small card down on Lisbon's desk. "You're looking at a card-carrying member of the California Organization of State Employees, Local 0001."

Lisbon remained in her desk chair and shook her head in wonder. "I can't believe you really joined the union. If I recall, the first year you began working for the CBI, you swore you'd never be a member of, and I quote: 'That mindless menagerie of money-grubbing miscreants.'"

Jane grinned proudly. "The alliteration was nice, wasn't it? Well, anyway, just goes to show, you should never say never, Lisbon. My dues are paid, and an extra twenty thousand dollar donation insured my place at the podium for the rally at the Capitol Saturday."

"Twenty thousand?" She said in disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm flush. I finally got my bail money back after I was exonerated of Carter's murder, so money's not an object for me these days."

She shook her head. "Still, with that kind of money, we might have been able to just try to pay Bertram off for those pictures instead of going to all this trouble."

"He doesn't want money, Lisbon; he wants power. Well, in a few days, there'll be no one around for him to have power over."

"I'm really not sure about this. It seems extreme, even for you."

"Look, I've thought this through completely. Come Monday morning, CBI Headquarters will practically shut down because nearly everyone will be out on strike. Oh, what a public relations nightmare this will be for poor old Bertram! No one will even be paying attention if he decides to release the photos. He'll seem spiteful and petty to fire us over some suggestive images. Everyone will interpret it as an excuse to fire a striking employee, and that's not going to help labor negotiations any. He won't be able to touch us, and he'll know it. And what a coincidence that Monday is when the AG investigation starts. Too bad I'll be on strike…"

"They'll find you, you know," Lisbon said wryly. "They're pretty good about that sort of thing."

"Meh. Let 'em try." He seemed totally unconcerned and confident—a dangerous way for Jane to be. Well, dangerous for anyone in his way.

But Lisbon had to admit that, even if his crazy plan worked, she still had one major concern.

"What if a case comes up, Jane, while we're out demonstrating? A complicated murder, something the local police can't handle? Are you willing to stand behind union protest lines and let a killer get away?"

"What are the odds of that, Lisbon, really? Don't be such a worry wart." He kissed her on the forehead, and Lisbon couldn't help feeling slightly condescended to. _Frankly,_she thought_,__given__their__track__record,__the__odds__were__pretty__good._Her eyes narrowed, but she let him continue.

"If something like that should come up, we'll deal with it. For now, let's focus on the issue at hand. I did some research, and nearly everyone in this building is a union member, so it won't take much pressure to get them to do their union duty and walk out. Impending pension cuts and layoffs are enough to get anyone riled up."

As he moved to sit on Lisbon's couch, Lisbon heard a strange metallic jingle coming from the vicinity of his pants. He grinned. "Oh, here; I almost forgot." He reached into his pockets, bringing out a handful of plastic and metal buttons imprinted with a few different protest slogans:

_State Workers: When We Get Screwed, We Multiply_

_R.I.P State Pensions_

_I protect your family from the criminally insane. Remember that!_

"And this one's my personal favorite." He handed her a huge button with block-style lettering.

_**C**ollect **O**ur **P**ensions_

_**C**ut **B**ertram **I**nstead!_

"See how the words are spelled off _Cop_ and _CBI?_ Pretty clever, eh? I'm having signs and t-shirts printed for the whole team. Isn't democracy a wonderful thing?"

She looked at him skeptically. "You don't really give a damn about pensions and layoffs, do you?"

"Nope. But if Bertram wants to take me on, I'm more than willing to meet him on his own field of battle, and that, my dear Lisbon, is politics."

She sighed, and he walked over to her, pinning his favorite button to her blazer lapel.

"Look at that. Beautiful." He moved to kiss her again, but she backed away.

"Not at work, remember? Just because the team knows—"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine," he pouted. "But I have to say, Lisbon, by denying me, you are interfering with my First Amendment right to freedom of expression."

She rolled her eyes. "Why don't you exercise your Fifth Amendment right and remain silent while I get some work done before my forced furlough next week."

He made himself comfortable on her couch, laying flat and even arranging the throw blanket over himself for added warmth. Right before he drifted off to one of his famous catnaps, she heard him mumbling something about "baring her arms" and "cruel and unusual punishment."

Lisbon smiled and went back to work, but she couldn't help thinking that this approach of Jane's could backfire in so many ways. She picked up Jane's union membership card, fingering it absently. The problem was, she had no other ideas for beating Bertram, herself. She didn't want to call Bertram's bluff, didn't want the embarrassment of the pictures being released, or the effect it would have on her career. She didn't want to lose her team, and she loved her job here. Jane's schemes sometimes didn't go exactly as planned, but usually, the desired outcome was ultimately achieved. So if she wanted to keep what was hers, she would accept his help and put her faith in him that he knew what he was doing.

She looked at Jane's card. It had a nice picture of him in the upper right corner, that mischievous smile of his lighting his eyes with an almost boyish, incorrigible glow. Her slight smile turned grim. She shot a look of trepidation at her sleeping Goldilocks, making himself at home on her couch that was way too big for her office.

If those other pictures ever came out, she would totally kick his ass.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Saturday…**_

It was a beautiful fall day, and Jane looked around the Capitol grounds, noting with pleasure the multitude of people gathered at the foot of the white building's awe-inspiring front steps. At the top of those steps was a podium and a microphone wired for sound. Currently, the president of the union, a lovely African-American woman, was giving an impassioned speech about how any cuts to state workers would only hurt the people of California. Her voice boomed into the crowd, and they cheered deafeningly and waved their signs at the appropriate times. Jane immediately tuned her out and looked with much amusement at his fellow team members.

They were all (except for himself) wearing the t-shirts he'd had made for them, the bright yellow he'd chosen with the garish purple writing making them all appear slightly jaundiced. Familiar buttons decorated their protest uniforms, and he grinned again at their clever sayings. They each (except Jane) held up matching signs by their wooden handles, none of them (least of all Cho) happy to be there. _But__they__sure__are__loyal__little__soldiers,_ thought Jane, _willing__to__sacrifice__their__Saturday__for__the__cause__of__true__love.__Well,__that__and__revenge._

"Isn't this great," Jane was saying, rubbing his hands together, intentionally trying to annoy them with his high spirits. "Practicing our Constitutional rights to peaceably assemble and redress our grievances against an overstepping government? Makes you proud to be an American, doesn't it Cho?"

"I'd feel even prouder sitting at home watching football," he responded flatly.

"Here, here," muttered Rigsby.

"Oh, come on, you guys," said Van Pelt, "Let's make the best of this. It's a worthy fight, isn't it? I mean, don't you want to retire with your full pensions? Aren't you angry that so many people are losing their jobs?"

"That's what the voting booth is for," said Cho.

"I really do appreciate you all doing this," said Lisbon, wondering if she could feel any worse.

"Oh, hey, Boss," Rigsby said, instantly contrite. "It's really no trouble, and we're happy to help out." He looked at his coworkers meaningfully.

"Sure," Cho concurred. "Sorry."

"Yeah, we're here for you, Boss," Van Pelt said, and she pumped her sign for emphasis as the union president finished her speech amid loud applause, and was about to introduce their next speaker. The song, "Secret Agent Man" suddenly blasted through the speakers.

"Oops!" said Jane. "That's my cue!" And he disappeared into the crush of protestors. The music was turned down so the president could make her introductions.

"I have the great pleasure to introduce a man familiar to many of you in law enforcement, one who was inspired to join our cause only recently, but who has thrown in his time and sizeable commitment wholeheartedly. He's a consultant for the California Bureau of Investigation, and has seen first-hand how important government employees are to the safety of our citizens. He has helped his team solve more cases than any other unit in the CBI. Please join me in welcoming to the fight, Mr. Patrick Jane!"

In true showman style, Jane made it to the top of the steps with perfect timing. He gave the president a kiss on the cheek, then stood at the podium, making a point to roll up his shirtsleeves in a blatantly symbolic gesture, then raising his hands in the air at the thundering welcome. He put on his most appealing, hypnotic grin.

Back at the cadre of his team members, those who knew him best merely rolled their eyes, used to his theatrics in a crowd, Lisbon especially shaking her head at the whistles of appreciation and catcalls from the ladies around them. Jane, of course, was eating it up.

"Thank you, Yvette, and thank you all! Very flattering welcome, truly. And yes, I'm new to this cause, but I come to you as both a citizen of our fair state, and a member of the law enforcement community. Every day, I see my friends putting their lives on the line not only for the common people, but also to protect the very members of our state leadership who are voting to make these harmful cuts to our pensions. So you know what I say? I say we ought to just quit doing it for the bastards awhile and see how safe they feel then!"

There was a roar of approval, and Lisbon put up the hand not holding her sign and covered her eyes as if that could shield her from the bullshit he was spouting. Cho and Rigsby looked at each other uncomfortably.

"And layoffs? Ladies and gentlemen, I realize that sometimes hard decisions need to be made in these tough economic times, but shouldn't those cuts start from the top first? After all, it is those of us at the bottom who do the real work!"

The team looked at each other, a shared vision of Jane sleeping on the couch filling their heads.

"Figureheads just take up office space and tell us what to do, when we, the more experienced crime fighters, know exactly how to do our jobs without any help from fat cats who are only in power because we've allowed them to be there!"

More clapping and calls of agreement filled the cool autumn air. Lisbon groaned audibly.

"Take my own boss at the CBI, Gale Bertram. Did you know he was only a field agent for five years before he became a unit director? Then, he was only five short years there before he was appointed by the Attorney General as Director of the entire bureau! Before all that, Bertram wasn't even a resident of the state of California! Not even in law enforcement at all—he was an east coast lawyer!" He said the occupation like it was a bad word, using air quotes, while shaking his head in abject disappointment.

His audience booed and hissed; hatred of lawyers seamed to be a universal emotion.

"Nearly everyone I work with at the CBI has more training and experience than him, yet he is our leader, and you have to realize, my friends, that there's no way _his_ pension will be cut. No way _his_ job will be absorbed! Poor Bertram. I know he would not be a wolf," continued Jane, paraphrasing _Julius__Caesar,__ "_but that we employees are but sheep! Let's show this state we are not sheep! Collect our pensions, and cut Bertram and his ilk instead!"

More clapping and calls of support, before Jane calmed the masses and concluded his speech. "Monday morning, I hope you'll do what needs to be done for a better future for all of us. Rise up, along with state employees all over California, and express your anger!"

"Yes!" called the masses.

"Express your frustration!"

"Yes!"

"Express your democratic rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of a fair pension!"

"Yes!"

"Don't just sit there in your cubicle, in your office, unappreciated and under-rewarded! Don't just sit there at all, people, walk! Walk! Walk! Walk!"

He raised his hand to signal that they join him in his call, and in the crowd, as the multitudes chanted as one, Lisbon and the others looked around at the way Jane had stirred the crowd up like a Southern Baptist minister on a Sunday morning. He hugged and kissed Yvette again (this time, on the lips, much to her delighted embarrassment), and "Secret Agent Man" blared anew as Jane clasped Yvette's hand and they raised them to the sky.

He glad-handed everyone in the crowd he could reach on his way back to his friends, who stood there, amazed.

"Whoo!" Jane exclaimed as he took his place beside Lisbon. "Did you hear that? I really got them going!"

"'Secret Agent Man?' Really?" was all Lisbon could manage.

Jane laughed. "I had absolutely nothing to do with that, I swear," he claimed, but none of them really believed him.

"Well, if they weren't striking before, they definitely are now," said Rigsby.

"Talks had already broken down," Jane said, his face falling a little. "That was the plan, remember?" He looked at the team in bewilderment. "Are you guys still in this with me?"

"Sure," said Cho succinctly. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, well, thanks for coming. See you when the strike is over."

"Great speech," Rigsby congratulated Jane. "Bye, Boss." And he and Cho left abruptly together, talking about how they might still be able to watch the last quarter of the game as they walked toward their separate vehicles.

"I'm gonna head out too, if that's okay," said Van Pelt. "You really were good up there, Jane. You should run for office sometime. Bye, Boss, bye, Jane."

"Bye," Lisbon called after the retreating redhead. "And thanks!"

"What's gotten up their bonnets?" asked Jane in dismay.

"Some of your speech was pretty cringe-worthy, Jane."

"Oh?"

"I don't think they expected you to get so personal about Bertram. When the strike is over, they've still got to work with him, you know."

"Maybe," said Jane mysteriously.

She took his arm and steered him away in the direction of her car, which was parked a couple of blocks down the street. When they'd gotten a block away from the crowd, Lisbon slowed their hurried pace. Jane went along with her, amused by her slight paranoia.

"I thought the plan was to make trouble for Bertram," she said in a low voice, "focus his mind on something else to buy us time, not get him to lose his job."

Jane shrugged. "Really? Because that's exactly what my aim is, Lisbon. This is just phase one. Make trouble, screw things up for him with the AG, get him off our backs for awhile, put him in a place where he has no control over us. Then, in phase two, we move in for the kill."

She looked genuinely startled. "He's the CBI director. How the hell do you plan to oust this guy? He's untouchable. When this strike business is all over, he could very well leak those photos anyway. What's to stop him?"

"Let me get this straight, Lisbon. You don't think a blackmailer deserves to lose his job?"

"Of course I do, but I just don't see how it's possible unless we press charges and the whole thing comes out anyway, and we lose our jobs right along with him."

"Aww, Lisbon," he said, pulling her suddenly off the walkway. They sat on a bench in the middle of the Capitol rose garden. He took her hands and looked into her eyes, his softening with love and understanding. "Have some faith in me, will you? This is too important for me to screw up, so I'm not going to, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered.

He looked around (for her sake) then took her mouth in a hungry kiss. She loved him this way the most, enthused about a plan, a little mischievous, but with an edge to him that made him seem just a little dangerous. Even though he worried her at these times, she had to admit to herself that this is when he seemed the most alive, the most sexually exciting to her. He fed off her instant arousal, and deepened the kiss until they pulled breathlessly away, Lisbon nervously hoping no one they knew had seen them making out like clandestine lovers in a public place. She smiled suddenly, realizing that was exactly what they were.

"What?" he asked noting her reaction. He still held her small hands in his.

"I love you," she said. "Sometimes foolishly so."

"Someday you'll lose your job because of me, isn't that what you told me once?"

"Yes, and it seems even more certain as the years go by," she said, her lips quirking.  
>"Well, I'm a fool for love too, Lisbon. I mean, look at me. I just gave a speech at a protest rally that I don't even believe in. What does that say about me?"<p>

She raised an eyebrow.

"Don't answer that," Jane said wryly. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek just beneath her hair. "I love you too, Teresa," he paused to whisper in her ear. She shivered a little and closed her eyes, wanting him passionately in that moment.

"Your place or mine?" she asked without thinking.

He laughed, but a smoldering fire now lit his eyes as he looked at her.

"Yours, Lisbon. By all means, yours."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gale Bertram unlocked his front door and tossed his keys on the table in the foyer.

"Gale," his wife called. "Is that you?"

"Yes, dear," he replied absently.

He'd been out golfing with a few buddies in the AG's office, and he was already annoyed because he had been terribly off his game. The situation with Jane and the AG was wearing on him, especially with the official investigation starting Monday. He had hoped by golfing with them, he'd get them to go easier on them, not make a big issue of Jane's harebrained investigative methods. It might have been worse had he beaten them, he supposed.

Alexis came into the room, a lovely blonde more than ten years younger than him. She opened her mouth, and the novelty of her beauty faded immediately. "I've been trying to call you for an hour," she groused. "Don't you ever answer your phone?"

Bertram reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. The battery was dead.

"Dammit!"

"Well, your assistant has been trying to find you. He said to turn on the local news as soon as you got in." He didn't bother thanking her, but went into his home office, shut the door, and flipped on the television. He found a local station that was covering the rally live at the Capitol. He ran right up to the screen in disbelief when he saw that none other than Patrick Jane was giving a speech on the steps of the building.

"Walk! Walk! Walk!" he was shouting, and the crowd was echoing his call for a strike.

"That little—"

He picked up his desk phone and got his assistant on the line.

"Andrew, what the hell is going on? I thought the labor talks had been all but settled."

"I thought so too, sir, but it looks like they're walking now, thanks in part to Patrick Jane." There was definitely snideness in his tone. Bertram watched in shock as Jane and the union boss were actually holding hands.

"Jesus! I'm gonna kill that little prick!"

"Sir, I really suggest you keep your distance from Jane and the rest of the team. Any perceived malice could be detrimental to future union negotiations. Any threats against a unit or team could be interpreted as grounds to continue the strike."

"Well, how long could this thing last? Isn't this posing a safety issue for the state? Can't we compel them to return to work?"

"It could last weeks, sir. Local police and fire are obligated to keep skeleton crews, but not the CBI, I'm afraid."

"This doesn't look good, Andrew. This is a public relations nightmare," Bertram lamented, unknowingly repeating Jane's words of two days before. "Is there anything we can do?"

"We wait it out, sir."

"I hate that man, Andrew. I seriously hate him."

"I know exactly what you mean, sir."

A/N: Okay, so what do you think? Too off-the-wall?

Also, regarding Simon Baker tweeting last Thursday—he was asked his favorite Jane/Lisbon scene. He said it hadn't aired yet. Look for it in Episode 10! Can't wait! I know we'll all be analyzing it to death, lol.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for your support of my silly Jane joins the union idea. I'm sort of still in a silly mood, so here's some more in a similar vein.

This chapter is sort of a transitional one. It doesn't move the plot along too much, but I needed an outlet for some odd scenes I'd thought up; hope you don't mind. The first little bit is on the "M" side, so be warned.

**Chapter 4**

_**Three days later…**_

For a man that got bored very easily, Jane couldn't imagine a day when he would ever find making love to Teresa Lisbon the least bit tedious. Even after a year, just seeing her face aroused him, while kissing that sassy mouth of hers could reduce him to a blithering idiot in seconds. Seeing her high, firm breasts; touching them, tasting them, hearing her little mews of reaction never failed to bring his lust to a fever pitch.

But nothing could compare with the sublime ecstasy of joining his body with hers, to the sound of her sharp gasp as they became one, to the way her thighs trembled, her muscles tightening around him until she had brought him to a place of total and complete fulfillment. She would breathe his first name as she came, and that alone was so powerful that on the off chance she said it outside the bedroom, it would take him immediately back in his mind to her naked limbs enclosing him, their bodies slick with perspiration.

This happened every single time, and yet, it never ceased to amaze him. On the contrary, it made him even more insatiable, and as he lay on his back now in exhaustion, after having made love to her every day for the last three days, sometimes twice a day, he couldn't perceive a time when he would no longer want her, want this. He couldn't help the low chuckle of wonder that escaped him.

Lisbon, still panting beside him, turned her head on the pillow to look at him in amusement.

"Did I do something funny?" she asked, her hand creeping stealthily across the bed to run her fingernails lightly up his side.

He squirmed and yelped softly, stilling her tormenting fingers with a strong hand. Lisbon grinned at the realization that she was the only one in the world to know where Patrick Jane was ticklish.

"Sheesh, woman, don't do that to a man still in the waning throes of passion."

"The _waning throes,"_ she mocked. "You should be writing romance novels. Besides, you shouldn't be laughing at a woman in the _waning throes_ either. A girl's ego can only take so much."

He turned to his side to look at her, one hand propping up his messy head, the other lacing with her wayward hand. He grinned, the dappled morning light from the window making his eyes seem more on the green side of blue-green.

"Your ego has nothing to worry about. No, I was just marveling how this never gets old with you."

She arched an eyebrow. "Well what a sweet compliment," she said dryly. "So glad I'm not boring in the bedroom."

"Or out, my dear."

But despite her sarcasm, her eyes sparkled with mirth because she had been feeling the exact same way, even though three days of intense lovemaking had made her so sore she actually walked funny. He was about to lean in for a kiss when Lisbon's cell phone rang. She reached for it on the bedside table.

"Hey, Cho, what's up?" she said, after seeing his name on the caller ID.

"Van Pelt just called from the Capitol. There's been a murder. One of the picketers."

Lisbon sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover herself, while Jane looked on curiously.

"What? How?"

"Beaten and stabbed with a protest sign."

"Geeze," she commented, shaking her head at the brutality of it. "Do the locals need help?"

"They haven't asked for it. Capitol security is on the scene and Sac PD is there. Looks like it happened sometime after midnight."

"Wait-Van Pelt was there?"

"Yeah," Cho replied. She's been picketing every day. She didn't see anything though."

"Huh," said Lisbon noncommittally. Van Pelt was certainly a trooper.

There was an awkward silence a moment, as each agent itched to get in on things. Since the murder had taken place on Capitol grounds, it was clearly CBI jurisdiction, but the strike precluded them being on the scene.

"You might want to tell Jane. His phone's off."

Lisbon blushed. "What makes you think Jane's here?"

"He always turns off his phone when he's with you," Cho said, but when he said _with you,_ she got the distinct feeling he meant _in bed_.

"How could you possibly know that?" she asked.

"Top of my class, Criminal Behavior, 101."

Jane held out his hand for the phone. Lisbon reluctantly gave it to him, and she wanted to hit him for how big his grin was.

"Hello, Kimball," Jane said brightly. "You planning on crashing a murder investigation?"

"No."

"Oh, come now; you know you want to."

"We're on strike."

"Strike, smike. Put on your protest shirt, bring your signs and we'll see you and Rigsby there. We'll be deep undercover. You'll love it."

Jane disconnected without waiting for a reply.

"We are not breaking the strike, Jane."

"We won't, I promise. Let's just go check it out. No one will even know we're there."

She stared at him, but he didn't flinch. He truly was incorrigible, and she knew she'd better come with him or he'd probably get into even more trouble by himself. She gave a long-suffering sigh and moved to get out of bed. Jane had her on her back beneath him before she'd even had time to react. He was only deceptively lazy; he could be pretty fast if he wanted to.

He kissed her, his tongue delving in to tangle with hers, and they both felt their hearts picking up speed as his hands began to wander. She rolled him over to the middle of the bed until she was on top, feeling his renewed arousal pressing between her thighs. She broke away from his hot lips, panting.

"I thought we were going to the crime scene."

"We are," he said breathlessly. "Just give me a few more minutes."

"I'll give you ten," she said, rotating her hips while he half-laughed, half-moaned beneath her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Forty-five minutes later, Jane and Lisbon joined the rest of their incognito team at the Capitol, standing just outside the yellow police tape. The body was still there, and forensics had arrived, taking samples and measurements. The victim was lying on her stomach, the wooden stake of a homemade sign protruding from her back. No one commented on the irony of the slogan, _State Police Say: Don't Make Our Pensions D.O.A.!_

"Can you tell anything from here?" Lisbon asked Jane close to his ear. He couldn't touch or sniff without breaking the strike, but he could certainly look.

"Early thirties. And…she's a cop." He pointed to the telltale bulge of a sidearm beneath her blue blazer jacket.

"Well, that wasn't much of a reach," Lisbon said, unimpressed. "A quarter of the people here are cops. It's a government employee walk-out, remember?"

"She's not a protestor."

"How do you figure that," asked Rigsby.

"Her shoes," piped in Van Pelt. "She's wearing heels."

They all looked at her. "Hey, I've been marching for three days; no way I'd have on spike heeled boots like that for even a day."

"Very good, Grace," said Jane. "You've really been here three days? 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks,'" he quipped, but only Van Pelt and Rigsby laughed. Lisbon and Cho just shook their heads and gave pain-filled expressions.

"Someone was mad the woman crossed the picket line and took her out," suggested Cho.

"Maybe," said Jane, but the way he said it he sounded unconvinced.

All at once, a long, dark sedan pulled up to the scene, obviously a government issue VIP vehicle. Out stepped none other than Director Gale Bertram, along with his trusted lackey, Andrew. Closely following the car was a local news van.

"Shit," muttered Lisbon. They all saw who it was at once and turned their backs to the scene, trying to look inconspicuous. All except Jane, of course. He watched with narrowed eyes as Bertram walked over to the officers working the case and got an update. The cameras set up immediately and a police officer quickly laid a tarp over the body, the middle of it bulging conspicuously over the murder weapon. The newsman tested his mic for sound, then called for Bertram to make a statement.

The director began his spiel about how the CBI would do all they could under the circumstances, but that the striking agents made them very short-handed.

"We'll have to rely heavily on our good friends at SacPD," Bertram told the reporter, "but I'll offer my personal assistance to help solve this vicious murder of one of our own. It's a travesty that this heinous crime occurred on California's most important symbol of—"

"Hey!" Jane suddenly yelled. "That's CBI Director Betram!" An even larger crowd had begun to gather the moment the news van arrived, and when the cameras came on, the protestors went crazy. Jane riled them up even more by pointing out Bertram, and the rest of the director's interview was drowned out by yells of:

"Cut Bertram instead! Cut Bertram instead!" The police pushed against the crowd to keep them behind the tape.

Jane grinned widely at his handiwork, noting Bertram's angry and befuddled reaction. Bertram's eyes scanned the crowd and pointedly rested on Jane, an island of calm amusement in a sea of irate protestors, then he noticed Lisbon and the others. Jane nodded politely, while Bertram's mouth formed a tight line. Turning his back in a purposeful slight, Jane melted into the crowd behind his colleagues.

"That was mean," Van Pelt said, but she was smiling as she said it. The five of them, having lost their anonymity thanks to Jane, had moved away from the crime scene and the chanting crowd to a relatively empty area beneath a tree.

"You guys still contacts within SacPD, right?" Jane asked, leaning contentedly against the redwood.

"They may not want to talk to us though," Lisbon said. "I bet they're pretty pissed that we've doubled their workload."

"Bah," said Jane, waving a hand dismissively. "You cops are all the same. Death is what you live for, so this extra murder must seem like Christmas morning to them."

"Sometimes you really have no idea just what we do, do you?" rejoined Lisbon in annoyance.

"I'll see what I can find out about her identity," Cho said.

"Good man," grinned Jane.

"Now wait," protested Lisbon. "We are _not_ breaking the strike. This is SacPD's case, and we're gonna let them handle it. It's not a state emergency, and they haven't asked for our input-"

"Rigsby, you start canvassing for witnesses," Jane directed.

"Hey, you're not the boss!" Lisbon said, her face flushed with her ire. "I say who does what around here. Van Pelt, see if you can get access to the security tapes. Cho and Rigsby—oh, do what he said," she said in resignation.

"Sure thing, Boss," her team echoed, slight grins on their faces because Mom and Dad were fighting again. They headed off to surreptitiously complete their appointed tasks.

"Not cool, Jane," she said when they were alone.

"Aw, Lisbon, you need to learn to share some of your responsibilities. You don't have to do all this alone anymore."

"That's what they _trained _me for," she reminded him through gritted teeth. He was so damned infuriating. He leaned closer to her, and she could smell the scent of her own soap on his body from the quick shower they'd shared earlier.

"You realize, Teresa, I only do this kind of thing to get that tantalizing flush back in your cheeks." His voice was low and sexy, but she did everything she could not to let him know how much he affected her. It was a futile effort, she knew, but her stubbornness and independent streak wouldn't let her do anything else. Lisbon had her own bag of tricks, however. She turned to him, looking into his face with wide green eyes as he leaned casually against the tree.

"You realize, _Patrick_," she mocked softly, watching his eyes dilate at the use of his given name, "that I could have you on your knees in about two seconds flat, and there'd be no doubt who was boss around here."

He swallowed, and she felt a swell of victory, along with something much more sensual, coiling in her stomach.

"Point taken," he said. He looked like he was about to kiss her, but she ducked out of his reach at the last minute, and he nearly stumbled over an exposed root of the tree.

She chuckled softly as she walked confidently back toward the car. Jane grinned, gladly following behind her—the better to enjoy the view, of course.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

They solved the case by five o'clock that night, and Jane called in an anonymous tip to the local police. The suspect was arrested within an hour of that. The murder had nothing to do with the protest; the venue was just a coincidence. The killer was the woman's boyfriend, also a state policeman, whom she'd agreed to meet on the Capitol grounds. Turns out her other lover was there protesting too, and, in a fit of jealous rage, her boyfriend had beaten and stabbed her to death.

"Well, that felt good," said Jane in satisfaction of a crime well-solved. "I bet the locals wouldn't have solved this case for weeks, if at all."

"Come on, Jane," Lisbon chided, "give 'em a break. Local police handle everything; we just deal with serious crimes. You start having to rescue kittens from trees at the same time you're trying to solve a murder on top of a spate of home invasions, and you won't be cranking out the suspects very fast either."

The five of them sat around a table at their favorite Italian restaurant, eating the traditional meal of closed-case pizza.

"I thought the fire department rescued kittens," Jane replied, winking at Van Pelt as he purposefully baited Lisbon. But he was denied her renewed ire when Lisbon merely rolled her eyes. Van Pelt laughed at their antics; they really did play well off each other. She wondered with a faint ache if that was what true love looked like.

"You know," Rigsby ventured, "We could be doing this freelance, maybe start our own detective agency."

"Yeah," Cho agreed, taking a swig of beer. "Leave out the annoying government middlemen."

"What would we call ourselves?" asked Grace, warming to the topic. She took a ladylike bite of cheese pizza.

"Dewey, Cheatem and Howe?" Jane suggested with a grin.

"I think the Three Stooges already used that," Lisbon said wryly, but her eyes settled on each man present with secret amusement.

"How about Crime Busters," said Rigsby. "We could ride around in an old station wagon, and Jane could sniff out crimes with his uncanny psychic abilities." His idea was met with an equal combination of laughter and groans.

"AAA Investigations," was Cho's practical contribution. Everyone looked at him dully. "It comes first in the phone book," he mumbled.

"Lisbon, Jane, Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt, Private Investigators," Lisbon said.

"Hey," said Grace. "Why am I last?"

"Alphabetical?" Lisbon smirked.

"Then why is _Lisbon_ first? It should be Cho, Jane, Lisbon, Rigsby and…crap. I don't like it that way either."

"Yeah, Lisbon," Jane said, "Who says you'd be boss in our new venture? We'd be equal partners, right, guys?"

"The Five Amigos?" Rigsby suggested, reaching for another slice of pepperoni.

"You really need to stop watching old eighties movies," Van Pelt chided.

"At least the bad ones," advised Cho.

The lighthearted conversation continued as the pizza disappeared and the beer pitchers were refilled twice more…

A/N: As I said, this chapter was sort of just for fun. Back to the revenge and intrigue in the next chapter. Bertram will strike back a bit. Thanks so much for reading. Please sign in and turn on your private messages so I can reply to your wonderful reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This is my second new chapter since Friday night, so if you are behind, you might want to go back to chapter 4 first. Thanks to all of you who are doing me the honor of going back and reading my older fics. That is too cool of you!

Prepare for a jarring change of mood for this chapter. I did warn you that Bertram would strike back…

**Chapter 5**

By the end of the week, the strike was over. The state workers got to keep their promised pensions, and there was a temporary freeze on layoffs. All seemed right with the world as Jane and Lisbon arrived that Monday morning, except they still had the problem of those illicit pictures in Bertram's possession, and, of course, the AG's investigation into the Fowler case could now resume with a vengeance.

Jane stirred his tea as he stood near Lisbon in the break room. She'd just poured herself a cup of strong coffee, liberally laced with sugar.

"Well, at least we got a week off out of this," she said, trying to see a bright side. "We'd better keep on Bertram's good side from now on so he'll keep certain _things _under wraps."

"I told you, Lisbon, that was just phase one. He now understands we are not to be trifled with. He screws with us, and there will be repercussions. I'm not going to do anything extraordinary to kowtow to his blackmail. You shouldn't either."

She shook her head and sipped gingerly at her hot coffee.

The distant ding of the elevator signaled the arrival of the contingent from the Attorney General's office. Shortly thereafter, a man and a woman, both dressed in expensive suits with _lawyer_ written all over them, confronted them in the hallway on the way back to Lisbon's office.

"Patrick Jane?" said the man, a head taller than Jane, and much more on the swarthy side.

"Yes, that's the rumor," said Jane, adopting the smartass attitude he used with anyone acting in the least bit superior toward him.

"I'm Assistant to the AG, Henry Glasscock, and this is our internal investigator, Marcia Hartshorne." The woman nodded politely, her brown eyes widening a bit as she was confronted with Jane's exquisite masculine beauty and charisma. Lisbon felt immediate sympathy for the young woman; Jane could be a little overwhelming upon first meeting.

Jane grinned in amusement, but held up his teacup and saucer to show he was unable to properly shake hands. Lisbon shot him a look that clearly said, _Behave._

"A pleasure to meet you both," he said, for her benefit. Glasscock seemed to be daring him to make some comment about their names, but Jane didn't give him the satisfaction, although his bemused expression remained.

"I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon," she intervened, cordially shaking hands. "I'm Team Leader for Serious Crimes. Why don't we all go to my office?" She led them down the hall and indicated that the two visitors take the chairs across from her desk. Jane, of course, made himself comfortable on the couch.

"I assume you know why we are here, Mr. Jane, Agent Lisbon," said Glasscock levelly, swiveling his chair to face Jane. Hartshorne mimicked his movements, and Jane stifled a smile.

"You think I blackmailed Senator Moore in order to get his mistress to admit she'd abducted the Fowler infant from the hospital. Crazy woman. Psychotic, really." He raised an eyebrow, pausing for effect. "That about right?" Jane concluded, nonchalantly taking a sip of Darjeeling.

"The senator is likely to resign over this," Hartshorne added. "And he plans to take you and the CBI down with him."

Jane shrugged. "He _should_ resign. He's a lying, cheating bastard, and I'm not so sure he didn't know about his girlfriend's pathological need for a child after she lost their illegitimate one. No, I don't feel sorry for him. I feel sorry for his poor wife and his other children. And as far as my involvement, he can sue me. There isn't a court in the land who won't be on my side, especially if we get a jury with mostly women."

"So you have no defense?" asked Glasscock.

"My defense is, I got a child back and her abductor put in jail, not to mention an immoral senator exposed, and now I am being vilified because I did what needed to be done in order for all that to happen."

"The problem, Mr. Jane," Hartshorne said, "is once again, you skirted and arguably broke the law to accomplish that. That's not the way a government entity is supposed to do things."

"That's why I just _consult_ the government entity," Jane countered with a small smile.

"Jane—" Lisbon began in a familiar tone of warning.

"No, he's right, Agent Lisbon," said Glasscock. "He's only a consultant, but he's not above the law. And this isn't the first time you've been a part of this kind of investigation either, both of you."

"We're results people, Henry—may I call you Henry?—I'm sure you've seen our case closing statistics."

"I have, and I know how impressive it is. The AG and the people of California want results too, but there's a demand out there to clean up improper government practices, and the CBI seems like as good a place to start as any."

"Oh, really?" said Lisbon coldly. Jane shook his head slightly in an effort to calm her down. "So we're to be made an example of."

"Mr. Jane, are you admitting for the record that you did in fact attempt to blackmail Senator Moore?" asked Hartshorne, ignoring Lisbon's comment.

Lisbon stood up angrily. "Don't answer that, Jane. I think we should convene this to a more formal venue and allow Jane to hire a lawyer—"

"Does it count as blackmail if I'd already told the senator's wife about the mistress?" Jane asked innocently.

"Jane—stop! Shut up! We want lawyers, both of us. So, unless you're bringing charges, we have nothing more to say." Lisbon went to the door and opened it pointedly. "Good day to you both."

"You'd do well to be more cooperative," said the Assistant AG icily, rising to his feet along with the internal investigator.

"Are you threatening me?" asked Lisbon angrily.

"Hmmm mmmm," hummed Jane from the couch. "You don't want to piss off a Lisbon."

"We'll be seeing you again," said Hartshorne, and Jane gave her his best mega-watt smile.

"And how lovely that will be," he said, without even a hint of sarcasm. Hartshorne blushed and left the room, following her partner.

Lisbon shut the door so hard behind them that the door rattled in the casing. She shot an infuriated look at Jane.

"What?" he said guilelessly, finishing his tea and setting it on the lamp table.

"What were you doing, practically admitting what you'd done, and worse, acting proud of it."

"Well, I did, and I was," he told her. "Sit down and relax, sweetheart. Everything will be fine."

"Quit patronizing me," she snapped, remaining standing. "Those two have the power of both our careers in their hands."

"Meh. Glasshart and Shornecock are just a couple of government cronies whose opinions don't add up to a pile of spit."

"Glasscock and Hartshorne, Jane," she corrected, trying not to snicker. "Real mature." But her outburst had subsided as quickly as it had flared, and she sat heavily down on the couch beside him. Jane smiled, putting his arm around her and pulling her closer to his side.

"How can you be so cool about all this?" she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head.

"When you've been through the absolute worst thing in the world, Lisbon, you learn that nothing else can ever truly hurt you again. I have no regrets putting that kidnapper away. I'd do it again tomorrow, exactly the same way. If I'm done here, I'm done, but somehow I don't think that's the way things will end up, at least not yet."

"I hope you're right," she whispered.

"Aren't I always?" he said, and she felt his smile against her forehead. She didn't bother correcting him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane sat on the couch in Bertram's office, a feeling of resignation having settled over him. He hadn't told Lisbon he'd been summoned to the director's office; better to talk to her after the fact, when he knew what the verdict was. From the look on Bertram's face, it wasn't good news.

"I really hate to do this to you, Jane," he said, from the security of his desk chair. "But I'm getting pressure from the AG to let you go."

Jane nodded succinctly. "What if I get the senator to stop pursuing this? Say it was all a big mistake?"

"It's too late, Jane. He has already dropped the case in light of your impending dismissal."

"Aw." That explained it then. "What about Lisbon, and the rest of the team?" he asked, feeling his heart accelerate at the thought that her prediction was finally coming true and she was going to lose her job because of him.

"I didn't have a choice this time. You've taught them many of your skills, Mr. Jane, and I have no doubt they will go on just fine without you."

"I'm sure you're right," he said flatly. "I'd like my pictures now, if you don't mind, by way of severance pay?"

Bertram laughed. "Boy, you do have balls. I think I'll just hang on to those snapshots awhile longer. The date stamp still shows you were working here during the…_incident _and Lisbon is still in my employ, after all. Those pictures may yet come in handy."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" Jane said mildly.

"The feeling's mutual," replied the director with a tight smile.

Jane rose, and Bertram held out his hand. "Your ID, Mr. Jane?"

Jane reached into his inside jacket pocket and handed the plastic badge to his former boss. "I'll not lower myself by telling you to stick it up your ass, but the sentiment is there all the same."

"Naturally," said Bertram, amused. "Good-bye, Mr. Jane. Good luck in your new life."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As he walked down the Capitol steps into the fresh morning air, Jane thought that getting fired would have been more difficult, more fraught with anger and emotion. While he did have those feelings to some extent, he mostly felt numb.

He was glad Lisbon and the gang hadn't been let go too; he certainly didn't want to add to the load of guilt he carried around on a daily basis. But he worried about them. Sure, they were good investigators, would certainly handle and solve cases on their own, but how many murderers might get away with it without his special insight and willingness to do what needed to be done?

But, more importantly, what the hell was he going to do with his life now? He'd quit before—for about a day—and it was one of the worst days of his life. He needed this job. Oh, not for the money, especially because of his recent windfall, but he needed someplace to go, something to fill the long hours when he'd otherwise be brooding or obsessing, or both. He had to admit to himself that he was probably going to be more lost without his old team than they would be without him. It was a sobering thought.

He decided to walk the five blocks back to the CBI, pick up his car at the Capitol later. Walking cleared his head, calmed him, as he tried to find the words to tell Lisbon he'd been fired. There would be no hedging with this announcement. It would be best to just say it straight out, then help her deal with the disappointment and anger she'd be feeling, maybe dry a few tears. 

His cell phone rang.

"Hey," Lisbon said, her voice hurried and gruff. "Where are you? We've got a case."

"I'm taking a walk," he said.

"A walk? At this time of day? Tell me where you are and I'll pick you up on the way."

"Lisbon—" he began.

"_Where_, Jane?"

He sighed and smiled in spite of himself. There really was no talking to her when she was in "case mode." He supposed his news could wait until later.

"I'm at 9th and L," he told her.

"Stay there; we're on our way."

_Well, one more case won't hurt anything, will it?_ He thought. _ What are they going to do, fire me?_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What's the case?" asked Jane from the back seat of the SUV. Lisbon was driving, Cho was riding shotgun, and Rigsby was eating a banana muffin beside Jane. Van Pelt was at HQ, manning the phones, computer at the ready. All seemed normal, except for the sinking feeling in the pit of Jane's stomach. This would be his last case.

Jane realized everyone had remained silent, and Rigsby was pointedly avoiding his gaze, suddenly finding morning traffic terribly interesting. Lisbon sighed, and met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Wife and young daughter, both found raped and murdered in a state park."

"Jesus," Rigsby muttered under his breath at her bluntness. But he realized there really was no other way except to rip off that particular bandage.

Jane's face went pale for a brief moment. "How?"

"Shot," she said simply. At least she hadn't had to tell him it was a knifing, and no bloody smiley faces were found at the scene.

No one said anything for the rest of the hour-long drive, but Lisbon kept looking at Jane through the mirror, concern tugging down the corners of her mouth, her brow furrowed with worry for him. He smiled slightly to help reassure her that he was okay, but he didn't quite have the strength to force the smile to his eyes, so her frown remained.

The campsite at Auburn State Recreation Area was a primitive one, set at the end of a narrow road. The bodies had been found by a park ranger on his morning patrol. The county sheriff and a deputy had already arrived, and they were waiting for the CSI and coroner to conduct their investigations.

The camp consisted of a large tent, campfire with grate, and an ice chest, with various and sundry other basic supplies. The pick-up truck registered to the site was missing, and nothing seemed out of order except the clothing of the unfortunate victims. The team gathered around to examine the dead, and Jane could barely look at them, especially the little girl. He was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Cho and Rigsby went to scrutinize the tire tracks surrounding the camp.

"These tracks are consistent with the right truck of that make and model," Cho commented. "But look at these. They're from a three-wheel, all-terrain vehicle." He turned to the park ranger. "Any of your people use ATV's out here?"

"No. We use SUV's."

"You know of any ATV's in use around here at any of the other campsites?"

"No, but I haven't asked any of the campers if they've heard any riding around here, or gunshots for that matter. The most I've had time to do is block off the main entrances to the park."

"Cho, you and Rigsby start conducting interviews," Lisbon ordered. She looked at the park ranger. "You wouldn't mind showing them to the occupied campsites, would you?"

"Not at all."

"Before you go," said Jane, finally finding his tongue. "I assume there was a man with them. Husband? Boyfriend?"

"No, but she said when she came through the ranger station that her boyfriend would be coming in late last night in a red SUV; it never showed up. She acted like an experienced camper, so I wasn't too concerned. Never had any trouble out here before. It's so far out, people tend to come out here to get away from others." He spared a sad look at the bodies. "I hope you catch the sickos that did this."

"We'll do the best we can," Lisbon assured him. Cho and Rigsby climbed into the ranger's green sport utility, and she turned to Jane. He was staring off into the woods sightlessly, his body stiff and tense.

"You okay?" she asked, touching his arm.

"Bertram fired me," he said tonelessly.

She gasped. "What? When?"

"This morning. Said the AG pressured him into it, but I don't think it pained him too much to drop the ax. And don't worry, Lisbon, yours and the team's jobs are safe."

"Hey," she said, standing in front of him so he would look at her. His eyes were bleak and lifeless. "We're going to fight this, alright?" she told him passionately. "You're in the union now. This clearly smacks of retribution for your speech at the rally last weekend. If they don't want another strike on their hands—"

He smiled, reaching out to caress her cheek. "That's my Momma Bear," he interrupted gently. "Maybe I shouldn't even try to fight this, Lisbon. I'm certainly a thorn in a lot of sides at the CBI. But then I see things like this—"

She squeezed his arm. "Let's worry about your employment later. Right now, you need to go do your magical thing and figure out who murdered these poor people. They're who you're going to fight for, right?"

He nodded, taking a deep breath and turning back toward the horrific scene.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time they got back to Sacramento in the late afternoon, memos had already circulated that Jane was no longer an employee, that his access to sensitive information and areas of the CBI was now denied. Someone had been sent to pack up his personal belongings from his desk and around his couch, and the box was waiting for him outside the security station just inside the HQ's door.

Van Pelt had called ten minutes before they arrived, sounding harried, wondering what the hell had happened.

"Don't worry about it, Grace," Jane had told her via his cell phone.

"Before I knew anything, I accidentally told Bertram you were out with Lisbon working this case. Sorry, but you're busted."

"That's okay. I knew he would find out eventually. I think we got enough from the crime scene for you guys to find the killer. It's probably the boyfriend; it usually is." There was an APB out for him already.

He hadn't meant to sound insensitive, given Van Pelt's own boyfriend situation gone wrong, but there was nothing for it. What Jane had said was generally the truth, and they both knew it.

"I'm sorry this happened," she said. "Let me know how I can help."

"Thanks, Grace. You're a peach."

"This is just wrong," Rigsby reiterated after he'd hung up. Jane had broken the news to him and Cho when they'd pulled away from the crime scene.

"Thanks for the condolences, Wayne," said Jane. "Que sera sera."

"Hmm." This from Cho, who didn't sound happy at all at Jane's resigned attitude. Had it been Cho, he certainly wouldn't be taking this lying down.

After dropping the two men off at the CBI, Lisbon gave Jane a lift to his car. He stood now in the Capitol parking lot beside his Citroen, his arms filled with the box of his possessions. It was very light.

"You still want me to come with you to the ex-husband's house?" he asked her.

"I don't know, Jane," she said from the driver's seat, the engine still running. "For one thing, you could get into even bigger trouble by interfering with a police investigation. For another, why put yourself through this? Telling a father his daughter and ex-wife are dead? That's got to be complicated emotionally for you, to say the least."

"It could be him that did it, Lisbon," he said, the very idea of it making him sick. "I want to look him in the eye when he gets the news. Besides, you shouldn't go alone."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"No" the man yelled. "Not Kayla! Not Kayla! Jesus, God! No!" And the dead child's father melted to the floor in a heap of unimaginable sorrow. Well, unimaginable to most people. Jane turned away from the man's pain as Lisbon and Kayla's stepmother moved to comfort him.

Jane burst out of the house and into the sunlight, breathing heavily, the unwanted memories flooding his head like a dam had burst. The smile on the wall. The blood, all the blood. The frantic search for pulses, the realization that they were long dead, that he hadn't been there for them. That he was to blame.

Jane knew what the man inside was suffering. He too had cried for help from a God he'd forsaken long before, one that he'd sworn later he would never believe in again. He'd been hysterical, inconsolable, had dialed 911 without even being able to say a coherent word to the dispatcher. They'd sent a squad car anyway, and it had taken three officers to get him out of that blood-spattered bedroom, to pry Red John's letter from his cold, stiff fingers.

Lisbon joined him where he stood now in the middle of the manicured lawn.

"He didn't do it," Jane said softly.

"I know," she said. She'd seen enough fake reactions to tell the difference.

"I want my goddamn job back," said Jane vehemently, wiping angrily at the tears he hadn't even realized he'd shed. "I'm gonna nail the son-of-a-bitch to the wall for what he did to that man's wife and little girl."

"Okay, then," Lisbon said, reaching for her phone. She began searching for the number of their union rep.

A/N: Too angsty? I had actually planned for this story to be more dramatic, but I sort of got sidetracked by a couple chapters of my own silliness. And by the way, the name "Glasscock" was actually the name of a college professor of mine, so I didn't make that one up, lol. This one's for you, Professor Glasscock, wherever you may be! Please, forgive my immaturity ; it's a curse, really. I hope you liked this chapter enough to review. I'll try to catch up on your reviews for the last chapter very soon.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I continue to truly appreciate all the great reviews this fic has been generating. Thanks so much! Now, on with the show…

**Chapter 6**

"There's no way back except through litigation," Lisbon told Jane the next day, having spoken again to their union representative. She was calling Jane from work, and he was sitting in the park down the street from the HQ building, sipping tea from a take-out cup. Without his ID badge, he wasn't even allowed in the parking lot anymore, thanks to Bertram's orders.

"The AG has got witnesses that will testify that you attempted to blackmail the senator, and they have Glasscock and Hartshorne saying you all but admitted to it in their presence. This is adequate evidence for a dismissal, but falls short of the AG seeking legal action against you since the senator dropped the charges."

"Uh-huh," Jane said. "So we litigate. How long will that take?"

She sighed. "It could take months."

"Fine. Any word on the whereabouts of Brooke Hunter's boyfriend?" He changed the subject back to the double homicide.

"Jane—"

"If it takes months, it takes months, Lisbon. Let's focus on more important things."

"You're not supposed to be working cases," she said gently. "If you're caught, this could totally ruin your chances of being reinstated."

"I'm not going to let Kayla's murderer get away with this, Lisbon. Consider me a resource, and use me."

She was tempted to find a double meaning in that, but bit her tongue, given the subject matter.

"The Auburn PD picked him up early this morning and Cho and Rigsby went to bring him in for questioning. I'm sure they'll be here soon."

"Good. Let me know when they get there. I want to listen in on the questioning."

"You can't—"

"Yes I can. Just turn on your cell phone and let me hear Cho's interrogation."

She considered his request a moment, wondering if she could explain it as an accident that she'd left her phone on during a suspect interview-with Jane coincidentally on the other end of the line.

"I could get in trouble for this too, you know."

"I'm worth it," he said smugly, a hint of his usual humor returning.

She grinned, letting him hear it in her voice. "Well, that remains to be seen. Just keep your mouth shut during the interview, will ya?"

"Cross my heart, Lisbon."

"Don't make me regret it. I'll call you when Cho's about to start."

"Okay. And Lisbon…"

"Yes, Jane." She seemed impatient to get back to work. Jane felt a wave of longing overtake him. He missed her already, and he'd only just seen her the night before. He should be up there with her, he thought in frustration.

"I love you," he told her, his voice like warm honey.

Those three little words from him never failed to make her tingle from head to toe.

"I love you too," she said, her voice suddenly husky. A silent moment passed between them, while Lisbon wished with all her heart that he could be in this office with her, lying on her couch and making smarmy comments. "Bye, Jane."

"Bye, Teresa."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon had just hung up the phone when a soft tap came at her door. Their new unit director, Luther Wainwright, stood just outside her office, and for the millionth time, Lisbon was struck by how much he reminded her of her brother James. She pushed that thought aside; it wouldn't do to think of one's boss as a younger sibling.

Wainwright had stayed just on the periphery of things lately, as Lisbon was discovering he was wont to do. There had been no discussion of the strike, and Lisbon had the feeling it was because he thought their political motivations were none of his business. He'd been present during the morning briefing about the Hunter murders, offering polite suggestions and prudent insights. But above all, Wainwright was an observer, absorbing things and processing them into his sharp young mind, in much the same way as Jane, in fact, when _he_ was in observation mode. But whereas Jane looked comfortable in his three-piece ensembles, Wainwright looked like an earnest teenage boy in his grown-up suit, his frame gangly and coltish.

"_Let me have men about me that are fat_," she thought wryly. The bit of Shakespeare would have pleased Jane too, she knew. She smiled, missing him all over again, but also in welcome of her boss's visit. She rose and gestured that he come right in.

"Agent Lisbon," he began, remaining standing while he nodded that she sit. "I just wanted to offer my regrets that Mr. Jane has been let go. I could already see what a great asset he was to this unit. I'm sorry things worked out this way."

"Me too, sir. But let me reassure you that the rest of the team is on this case, and will work diligently to solve it."

"I have no doubt," he replied. "I'd like to be present during your questioning of the suspect, if that won't hamper your investigation."

"Of course not, sir. We'd be happy for your input." _Shit. There goes __**that**__ plan._

Just then, Rigsby peeked into Lisbon's office behind Wainwright.

"Boss…uh…_es,_"he amended, belatedly including Wainwright. "Cho's got Cooper in Interrogation Room One."

"Thanks, Rigsby," replied Lisbon. "I'll be right there." She looked at Wainwright askance.

"After you, Agent Lisbon."

"Sir, if you'll excuse me first, I have to return a phone call. I'll join you in a minute."

He raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn't look suspicious as he left her office. She speed-dialed Jane.

"That was fast," he said.

"Look, there's a little hitch in the plan. Wainwright wants to be in on the interrogation, so for God's sake, stay quiet, all right?"

"Gee, Lisbon, have you no faith in my self-restraint?"

"Seriously?"

He chuckled. "I'll be quiet as a church mouse."

"Quieter even than that, Jane, I mean it. Okay, I'm about to put you in my pocket, so things might be a little muffled until I can get the phone in my hands under the table."

"This all sounds incredibly kinky," he mused.

"You're not helping my nerves here, Jane. Now shut up. Here I go; they're waiting for me."

"Shutting up," said Jane dryly. It was actually a bit of a turn-on when she got bossy.

Lisbon dropped the phone into her front pants pocket and headed for the interrogation room. Cho had already begun talking to Bryson Cooper, a large man, over six feet tall, thin and lanky, with eyes like cold, blue steel.

Lisbon joined them inside the small room, noting in passing that Wainwright and Rigsby were watching through the one-way glass. Lisbon sat down beside Cho, across from the suspect. One hand slipped into her pocket and pulled out her phone, holding it in her lap beneath the table.

"You own an ATV?" Cho was asking him from across the narrow table.

"No," the man replied gruffly. "And I said, I want a lawyer."

"One's coming. No one's forcing you to talk; Agent Lisbon and I will just sit here and keep you company in case something occurs to you."

"You cops, I know how you are. You manipulate people into confessing to things they didn't do."

Lisbon looked over at Cho, pointedly ignoring Cooper's slanderous opinion.

"You know, Cho," she began conversationally, "whoever killed Brooke and Kayla had to have known them. Nothing was stolen, not even from her purse that had three hundred dollars in cash in it. This was definitely personal."

"And there's a special place in Hell for monsters who hurt women and little girls," said Cho. I'm thinking the man who did it was a coward, the worst kind of human filth."

An innocent man would have been wholeheartedly agreeing with those sentiments, but Cooper remained resolutely silent. _Time to reel him in_, thought Lisbon.

"What's more," she added aloud. "He was very stupid. There was a ton of DNA left at the scene, not to mention tire tracks and bullets. If the guy were to come forward, we might be able to cut a deal. But if we have to go to the trouble of catching him, it's the death penalty for sure on this one, don't you agree, Cho?"

"Yeah. That sounds about right." They lapsed into silence, giving Cooper a chance to think things over.

On the other end of Lisbon's phone line, Jane was chomping at the bit. While he admired the great reverse psychology scheme Lisbon and Cho were running, he was dying to see the man's face, to sneak a feel of his pulse, to look into the bastard's eyes and see if a killer was looking back. He could tell a lot of things from someone's voice, especially in stressful situations, but the phone somewhat garbled his full sense of the man.

"Okay," Cooper began suddenly, "I—"

"Don't say another word," came the voice of Cooper's lawyer. He stood in the doorway in a cheap, court-appointed suit. The heavyset attorney shot a look at the pair interrogating his client. "You have anything on him that isn't circumstantial?"

"Not until we get the preliminary DNA results back," Lisbon said. "We can hold him for forty-eight hours, and that's what we intend to do."

"No, you're not," said the lawyer, producing a court order. "You'll release him now if you've not pressed charges against him."

"Don't let him go, Lisbon!" came the faint, familiar voice from her lap. Automatically, Lisbon loudly cleared her throat and pressed the disconnect on the phone in her hand, then quickly slid it back into her pocket.

Everyone looked at Lisbon suspiciously, and she flushed scarlet. "What was that, Cho?" she asked innocently, hoping she was sending her partner a clear enough psychic message. She silently thanked God her second in command was quick on his feet.

"Uh, I don't think we should let him go, uh, Lisbon?"

"Right. That's what I thought you said. Well, his lawyer's here with a writ, so I'm afraid we have no choice. You can go, Mr. Cooper, but don't leave the state."

Cooper's lawyer ushered out his new client, leaving Lisbon and Cho sitting and looking at each other silently. Wainwright came in the room a moment later.

"Did I hear Jane's voice in here?"

"What?" Lisbon said.

He looked at his two agents doubtfully. "I'm sure you both know that since Mr. Jane has been fired, it would be totally against procedure to allow someone outside the CBI to listen in on an official interrogation. I can quote the penal code for you if you like…"

"Of course we know that,"Lisbon said. She quickly changed the subject. "Sorry we had to let Cooper go, sir. When we get some forensics test results back, we'll pick him up again. I think he's good for this."

"Me too,"Cho agreed.

They waited on tenterhooks to see Wainwright debate internally whether or not he was going to make an issue of their break in protocol.

"Okay," he said finally. "Keep me informed."  
>"Yes sir," they replied in unison, relieved. They watched their new boss head out of the room, beginning to relax when Wainwright suddenly stepped back in a moment later. "Oh, and tell Jane hello for me, would you?" His warning tone was clear.<p>

"Yes sir," Lisbon repeated, nodding in acknowledgement that they weren't fooling him at all.

"Crap," Lisbon muttered under her breath, running a slightly shaking hand through her hair.

Rigsby joined them. "What was that all about?" he asked curiously.

"Jane was on the phone listening," she explained. "Sorry I didn't tell you guys; I sort of got ambushed by Wainwright before I could."

"Jane couldn't keep his mouth shut, eh?" Rigsby grinned.

"No. And neither can I," she said, her anger mounting. "That man—"

"I'll see if I can put a rush on the forensics lab," Cho said, his way of offering comfort while at the same time finding an excuse to escape her ire.

"Thanks, guys," Lisbon said, dismissing them. "I need to return a phone call."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fifteen minutes later, Lisbon found Jane, peacefully sleeping in the sun on a park bench, knees bent, his suit coat folded beneath his head for a pillow.

"Dammit, Jane,"she said, nudging him awake with her foot. "What part of _shut up _did you not understand?"

"Oh, hi Lisbon," he said, sitting up and smiling ruefully. "Sorry. I was hoping I'd get the chance to see Cooper before you let him go. From what I heard, I think he's our man, but I'd really like to see him in person before I can be sure."

Lisbon took her place beside him. "You're lucky—or rather, _I'm_ lucky—Wainwright didn't make an issue of your eavesdropping, or we'd both be out of a job."

"Where does Cooper live?" Jane asked.

"What? No way. Don't even think about it. When the test results come in, we'll have him for sure. You can just be patient. Besides, the Auburn police already searched his house."

"But if it's not him, we're wasting time not finding the real killer."

"You're just going to have to wait like the rest of us this time."

Jane was quiet a moment, his face sober as a judge. "I'm not a patient man when it comes to things like this."

She took his hand. "I know." His larger hand automatically enclosed hers. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to get back to work. You gonna be okay?"

He nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah. Keep me in the loop, will ya? I feel like I'm flying blind here."

"I will, but you have to stay out of trouble." She kissed his cheek, enjoying the feel of his sun-warmed skin beneath her lips, wishing she could spend the afternoon lazing in the sun with him. "See you later at my place?" She stood, and he still held her hand. "If I don't have to work late, I mean."

"Sure. I'll see you later." He gave her the grin she was expecting, then watched her walk back to the parking lot. His smile faded with the sound of her car. The moment she was out of sight, he flipped open his phone.

"Grace, you got a minute?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Police! Freeze!"

Jane held up his hands, one hand still holding the lock pick he'd used to break into Bryson Cooper's house in Auburn. Two state police approached him, guns drawn.

"Patrick Jane, I presume?" said one smugly, reaching for the handcuffs at his belt.

"Uh, yeah. How did you know?"

"Director Bertram thought you might try something like this," said the officer, pulling Jane's hands down behind his back and slapping on the cuffs. He tightened them until Jane flinched in pain.

"This is clearly an abuse of police power," Jane protested.

"Bertram said you might say that," laughed the second man. "Patrick Jane, you're under arrest for breaking and entering and for interfering with a police investigation. You have the right to remain silent…"

"Why is everyone always telling me to shut up?" said Jane rhetorically, as the state policeman pushed him none too gently down the porch steps of Bryson Cooper's home.

A/N: Yep, Jane is in trouble again! Please bear with me; there's a plan here, I promise. I really hope you click the review button! Thanks in advance, if I'm not being too presumptuous.

And how great was tonight's episode! I laughed and laughed. I'll try to have a tag up soon. I'm thinking it will be Cho-centric for a change. See you soon!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Another angsty chapter ahead, so be warned. This is the chapter I've been working toward the entire fic, so I hope it pays off for you. Please enjoy.

And, to all my American friends, Happy Thanksgiving!

**Chapter 7**

"So, here we are again," Lisbon said, sitting across from Jane in the visitor's area of the Placer County jailhouse. Despite her ironic tone, she wasn't amused.

"I'll save you the trouble," he began. "It was stupid. I should have listened to you, blah, blah, blah. Now, get me the hell out of here."

"Sorry. You won't get your bail hearing until tomorrow at ten, so you get to stew in the pokey for a night. Personally, I think you deserve it, but then again, we really needed your help with this case, so forgive me if I'm a bit pissed off with you right now."

"Be pissed off at Bertram. The bastard set me up."

Lisbon stared him down a moment. "Bertram _made_ you break into Cooper's house?"

For once, she won the staring contest, and Jane looked sheepishly away.

"I am sorry, Lisbon," he sighed. "Is there any news from forensics?"

"No."

"Dammit. Don't you have any favors you can call in? Any palms you can grease to get the charges dropped?"

"I used up all my credits the last time you were in jail and needed me to cut corners. Besides, Bertram's pulling the strings here and I'm afraid he's also got a little more grease than I do. So, I suggest you make yourself comfortable. I take it you're still your own attorney?"

He shrugged and smiled. "Well, if it ain't broke…"

She grinned in spite of herself, shaking her head. She loved him, and she would forgive him anything if he flashed her that smile. If he knew how much power he really had over her, boy would he exploit it for all it was worth. Lord knows he had the power to charm everyone else around him, especially members of a jury.

"I know it may be asking too much," she said, "but I really hope you learned your lesson this time. You're in here when I really need you out there." She leaned in closer in an attempt at more privacy. "But I will content myself knowing that while you're lying on your uncomfortable bench tonight in Holding, sleeping beside the gangbanger, the drunk, and the male prostitute, you'll appreciate even more who you _could_ have been sleeping next to."

"That's cold, Lisbon. Very cold," he chastised, eyes sparkling.

She rose to leave, wishing regulations and discretion allowed them to touch. "I'll see you in the morning for your hearing."

"Does it help if I say I love you?" he whispered longingly.  
>She left him with a wry grin. "No…but it doesn't hurt."<p>

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Lisbon walked out of the Placer County Jail, her phone buzzed an incoming text. It was from Bertram's office.

_Please come in for a brief meeting tomorrow morning, nine a.m._

She sighed, annoyed but also curious as to why her boss would want to see her. She wondered if she was getting the boot too. Or maybe he wanted to remind her she was still under his thumb because of those damnable photographs. He didn't need to control Jane anymore; Jane was in jail and likely on his way to serving time for breaking and entering, a possibility she hadn't wanted to think about, let alone discuss with Jane. Whatever it was, Lisbon felt a distinct feeling of dread at the prospect of meeting with him. She couldn't see anything good coming of it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Lisbon arrived in Director Bertram's outer office at five till nine to find that his secretary had just arrived herself. They smiled at each other; Lisbon was a relatively frequent visitor.

"He's left his _do not disturb_ light on the intercom," the young woman told Lisbon. "We'll give him a few minutes and I'm sure he'll be free. This must have been a last-minute thing because it's not on his calendar for the morning."

"That's fine, Maggie," Lisbon said pleasantly. "I'm a little early anyway." She made herself comfortable and sat in one of the plush leather waiting area chairs, wishing she'd brought her coffee with her. Someone had left a copy of yesterday's _Sacramento Bee _on the side table, so she picked it up and scanned the headlines.

Fifteen minutes later, and Maggie picked up her desk phone. "I'll just call his assistant, Andrew, and see if he knows what's up."

Lisbon nodded and smiled, but by then she was becoming a little antsy. Jane's hearing was in forty-five minutes, and while she wouldn't be able to make it to Auburn in time, she wanted to be able to go pick him up once he was released on bail.

"That's funny," the secretary said. "Andrew's not picking up. Maybe he's in the meeting too. I know you're busy, Agent Lisbon, so I'll risk his wrath and give him a little buzz to remind him you're waiting."

"Thank you."

She touched a button on the phone. "Director Bertram?"

No answer. She buzzed again. "Director Bertram?" She got up and went to the door to his office and leaned her ear against the door. "Sir? Agent Lisbon is here to see you." She looked over at Lisbon. "I don't think there's anyone in there, which is weird. I saw his car in the lot."

Lisbon got up and joined her at the door. A tingle of awareness, the sensation that something was not quite right, coursed up and down her spine. Jane was always telling her to listen to these feelings, to use her intuition.

"Here," Lisbon said, moving her hand to the doorknob. "Allow me."

She must have also shared Lisbon's unease, for she stepped aside without hesitation. Lisbon tried the doorknob first. It wasn't locked. They looked at each other, and then Lisbon slowly opened the heavy oak door, one hand resting on her sidearm.

"Holy Mother of God," she breathed in horror.

It was there, on the wall above his desk, the macabre, bloody face that was Red John's calling card. Gale Bertram sat upright against the back of his desk chair, throat cut, torso slashed open and exposed, blood soaking his expensive gray suit. If there hadn't been the horrid wounds and gore, he would simply look like he was taking a peaceful morning nap. Beside her, Maggie began to scream.

Lisbon woke from her shock and rushed to the secretary's phone, her heart pounding in her ears. _Security _was clearly labeled near a call button, and she pressed it, bringing the receiver to her ear.

"This is Agent Lisbon, CBI. Code Red! Lock down! Lock down! I've got a 187 in Director Gale's office. Lock down now!" She didn't bother to wait for a reply, but pulled out her cell phone to speed-dial Cho.

"Maggie, you need to sit down for me," she said to the secretary, trying to infuse her voice with a calmness she didn't feel. By now Maggie had stopped screaming but was shaking like a leaf; she looked like she was about to faint. Lisbon pulled her by the arm to her desk chair and pushed her bottom down into it, where she covered her face and sobbed feebly.

"Yeah, Boss," came the familiar, stoic voice in her ear. Hearing it calmed and focused her immediately.

"I'm at the Capitol at Bertram's office. He's dead. Looks like Red John."

Cho paused a beat, as if trying to process what he'd just heard, then: "We'll be right there."

By that time, two Capitol security men had arrived on the scene and Lisbon immediately flashed her badge. She led them to Bertram's office.

"Jesus," said one.

"Isn't this…Red John," asked the other, clearly in awe that he was witnessing the grotesque work of a legend. "I thought that CBI consultant killed him."

"Yes," Lisbon replied simply. "We all did."

_Code Red. Code Red, _came an automated, feminine voice from invisible speakers. _Please remain calm and stay where you are. No one may exit or enter the building at this time. Code Red. Code Red…_

"Look, my people will be here soon, please see that they are allowed inside."

"Will do." He got on his radio.

More police and other security arrived, and Lisbon began speaking to the head of security, a handsome man in his fifties, in plain clothes.

"I'm Sergeant Joplin Carver," he told her. "Capitol Police."

"I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI. The killer may still be on the premises. Our best description is that he is likely male, around six feet tall, with short, straight hair. I assume your people are setting up an outside perimeter as well as inside. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like everyone to stay clear of the office until my team and CSI arrive. We're in charge of the Red John file, and since this is state property, it's clearly the CBI's jurisdiction."

"You sure this is Red John? I thought he was dead," he said from the doorway of Bertram's office, observing with the dispassionate eye of a cop. But Lisbon knew no one could possibly be totally unaffected when confronted by the serial killer's vile handiwork.

"It fits his M-O. I guess there was a mistake." She looked at her watch; it was only 9:25. "My expert won't be able to make it here for awhile to confirm, but I've seen enough of these, unfortunately, to know what to look for."

_You were right, Jane; Carter wasn't Red John, _she thought bitterly._ This is one time when I especially hate that you were right._

A thought struck her, and she went still. _The pictures. When they search Bertram's files, they'll find the pictures._

"Agent Lisbon? You okay?"

She immediately felt guilty for thinking of herself right now. Bertram had a wife, a grown son. They would need her prayers.

"I'm sorry. Just a little off balance."

"Understandable. You found him?"

"Yeah, his secretary, Maggie and I." She went on to explain the circumstances of her visit, the events leading to the terrible discovery.

"Sort of an odd coincidence, your being here when Red John strikes, you being in charge of his case file and all." She felt his suspicious gaze resting on her. She didn't blame him; he was being a good cop.

"I got a text from Bertram yesterday to meet him at nine this morning. Maggie," she said, turning to the secretary. "Did you have me on the Director's schedule today?"

"Yes, he told me yesterday that he'd sent you a text, so I didn't have to call you to make the appointment. I thought that was a little strange, since he hates texting." Her voice still trembled, but she had regained much of her composure, dabbing her eyes only occasionally with a tissue.

"When did you arrive, Maggie?" asked Carver.

"About five till nine—right before Agent Lisbon. I'd just set down my purse when she came into the office."

"We'll verify all the times soon," Lisbon said. "Sergeant Carver, I'll need you to get me all the security tapes from the building, inside and out."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded at a security guard to fulfill her request. "It's a good thing the legislature is not in session this week for the Thanksgiving holiday, or we'd have an even bigger nightmare on our hands. Detaining congressmen is not fun."

"Yeah, I guess if there's one thing to be grateful for…" she trailed off, her thoughts awhirl at the implications of all of this.

Bertram was dead, at the hands of Red John. But why? Then, an unwanted thought occurred to her. This was just like Bosco in some ways. Bosco had shut Jane out of the Red John investigation, and Red John hadn't liked that one bit. Also, Bosco had found a new lead to Red John, so the killer had activated his inside man—or woman, in that case—his secretary, Rebecca, to plug the leak. Her eyes flew to Maggie, but she dismissed her immediately. Lisbon's instincts told her Maggie wasn't the type. Her eyes weren't crazed, like Rebecca's had been. And Rebecca had been almost joyful at having served her master, at least after she'd been caught. Lisbon's eyes narrowed on Maggie, but she still had no bad feelings about this particular secretary.

But as many similarities to Bosco's murder as there were, there were even more differences. For one, Rebecca had killed Bosco and his men (save one) not Red John personally. Had Bertram found a new lead in the Red John case? Not likely. Bertram had only been concerned about the administrative and publicity aspects of the directorship, not specific cases, unless, of course, they caused negative press. No, the biggest commonality between the two murders remained this: Jane.

_Thank God he was in jail last night, _she thought now, looking toward the heavens in gratitude. It was common knowledge around the CBI that Jane and Bertram were at war. If Jane hadn't been in jail, he'd be the prime suspect right now.

Her team arrived a few minutes later, and they quietly set to work in Bertram's office.

"Jane was wrong about Carter," Cho said softly, after examining the textbook cuts left by Red John on his latest victim.

"So it would seem," Lisbon replied. Rigsby looked at them in quiet dismay. Van Pelt had set up in the outer office, using Maggie's desk to begin looking through the DVD's security had provided.

CSI came in soon after, taking over the more scientific investigation and evidence gathering. There seemed nothing else amiss in Bertram's office, and their own preliminary observations confirmed in the CBI team's minds that this was likely the work of their old nemesis, as disappointing as it was in so many ways.

"I wish Jane were here," Rigsby commented. "He'd be able to see stuff we might be missing. If this is Red John, CSI won't find any DNA evidence from him anyway. We really need Jane—"

As if summoned, Lisbon's cell phone rang. "Speak of the devil," she smirked, looking at the caller ID. The moment she answered, he didn't even bother with _hello._

"I know you're mad at me Lisbon, but the least you could have done was sent someone to pick me up—"

"Jane—"

"I mean, I know I screwed up, but you'll be happy to know that—"

"Jane! Listen to me. I'm sorry I'm not there, but we got another case." He went silent, and she could tell that he was sensing that something was very wrong.

"What case?" he asked, his voice filled with sudden dread.

"Red John."

She could hear him gasp a little, then, his breathing increased audibly.

"Who?"

"Bertram."

To her amazement, she heard Jane's humorless laugh of disbelief. "That son-of-a-bitch!"

She wasn't sure if he meant Red John or Bertram.

"I take it you're out on bail. You need to find a way to get back to the Capitol asap. We need you here."

"Actually," Jane said, residual irony in his tone. "All the charges were dropped. I'm free as the proverbial bird."

"What? How?"

"I have no idea—or I didn't before—but the DA came in at my hearing and said they wouldn't be pursuing this. It has Red John written all over it, doesn't it?"

Lisbon looked around the room nervously, milling now with CSI. "I don't think we should discuss this over the phone. Just get here, okay?"

"I'll take a cab to where I parked my car on Cooper's street. I wasn't parked illegally, so hopefully it's still there. Barring no further unforeseen circumstances, I'll see you within the hour."

They hung up, and Lisbon breathed a sigh of relief. At that moment, it didn't matter to Lisbon who had set Jane free, she was glad he'd be there soon. She really did need Jane, and not just to help with the case. Finding a victim of Red John's was always unsettling, to say the least, and she was still a little shaken over her last tangle with Red John and his minions. Even now, her shoulder was aching at the memory.

"Hey, Boss," called Van Pelt. "We've got nothing on the security videos from this office." She glanced up at the camera mounted in a corner of the room. The power light wasn't on. "The camera has been shut off all night. The last recording was time stamped twelve-twelve this morning."

"Dammit," muttered Lisbon. It _was_ starting to sound like Bosco's situation all over again. Red John had to have had someone working on the inside to have this come off so flawlessly. "Well, at least we have a time frame to work with now. Cho, Rigsby, go see how the witness interviews are going, see if Capitol security is being thorough enough."

Joplin Carver scowled. "Now, wait just a minute—"

_Oops. _ Lisbon realized she must have been more upset than she'd thought to make such a huge mistake in diplomacy. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"I apologize, Sergeant. Red John tends to get my team and I a little worked up. I'm sure your people are doing their best."

Carver nodded, but she could tell she'd lost a bit of respect from the security man. Just when she needed all the help she could get.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Less than an hour later, the phone rang on Maggie's desk. Van Pelt picked up.

"Boss," she said, "it's main entrance security." Lisbon retrieved the phone from her hand.

"Lisbon."

"Agent Lisbon, we got a man here, claims to be with your team, but has no CBI identification."

"Is he blonde and belligerent?"

"Uh, yeah, you might say that."

"That's Patrick Jane. He's with me. Please send him up."

Van Pelt hung up the phone. "We could get in a lot of trouble, Boss, if we let Jane—"

"I know," she agreed. "But this is Red John." Van Pelt nodded once in understanding.

Jane might be persona non grata in official channels, but this was a special case, and Lisbon would take the heat for it if it came to that. This was the CBI Director, after all, and Lisbon had already fielded a call from the governor, reassuring that she and her team would do everything within their power to find the murderer. The powers that be would just have to understand that Jane was part of the package.

When Jane entered the outer office, it took everything in Lisbon not to rush into his arms. Instead, they shared a meaningful look, and silently she led him to the murder site. CSI had finished their preliminary investigation, and now, while they were awaiting the arrival of the coroner, they would be alone in Bertram's office.

The moment Jane saw the smiling face on the wall, he visibly blanched, but then his keen observational skills kicked in, and Lisbon could almost see him processing information like a machine. He examined Bertram's body, holding out his hands for Lisbon to give him a pair of blue latex gloves. For once, he was going to try to avoid contaminating a crime scene. Hands protected, he deftly poked and prodded at the corpse, smelling, studying, examining fingernails and inside the dead man's mouth.

Finally, Jane looked up at Lisbon, his eyes bleak. As usual, there was nothing here to give any clue as to Red John's identity. Jane began searching Bertram's desk, rifling through files and turning on the computer.

"Has Van Pelt looked at this yet?" Jane asked, his first words since arriving on the scene.

"No, not yet. She's been busy scanning the security video."

"Nothing there either, I assume."

"No."

Jane went to the filing cabinets behind Bertram's desk. He shot Lisbon a knowing look, and began searching through files marked _J _and _L. _He pulled out their personnel files, looking around lest someone else was noting his actions. He looked quickly through them, then looked back at Lisbon, shaking his head before putting them back in the drawers where he'd found them. Lisbon felt like falling to her knees in relief. But just because the pictures weren't in this office, didn't mean Bertram didn't keep them at home. The investigation would certainly continue to that venue.

Jane checked beneath framed artwork in search of a safe, but found none. One drawer of Bertram's desk was locked, however.

"Maggie," Lisbon stepped out of the office. The secretary was sitting on a couch in the waiting area, sipping tea from a Styrofoam cup. They were still on lockdown, so she was stuck where she was. "Do you have a key to Bertram's desk drawers?"

"No," she said. "I think he carried them on him, on a key fob."

Jane went to the body again, pawing through his pockets until he found a small key ring. "Bingo," he muttered, finding a small key that was most likely.

He opened the drawer, and saw the director's service revolver, a half-empty bottle of scotch, an extra dress shirt, still in its package, but no damning photographs. He met Lisbon's eyes, a familiar glint there that told her that for the moment, their secret was still safe. He put the key ring back into Bertram's front pants pocket.

With one last glance at the body, then the grotesque smiley, Jane followed Lisbon out of the office.

"Where's Andrew Yost?" he asked the room in general. "You know, the Smithers to our Mr. Burns? I figured he'd be here trying to deny us access to his boss."

"I've tried calling him, but he doesn't pick up," said Maggie.

"Hmm. Would you mind calling him again, please?"

She reached for her purse and took out her phone, pressing her speed dial button meant for Bertram's personal assistant. After a moment, she shook her head.

"It goes straight to voicemail."

Jane looked at Lisbon. "We should probably send someone to his home to look for him. I'm betting he might have some answers for us. What's his address, Maggie?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Lisbon took a moment to go to the Ladies' Room, she wasn't surprised when Jane appeared in the mirror behind her as she was drying her hands. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her back against his chest. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on his shoulder, savoring the feel of his sturdy body encircling hers. She turned in his arms, and he found her mouth with his. She trembled against him, and he tightened his hold, both of them seeking comfort within the warm confines of their mouths.

Her heartbeat slammed against his own, each of them shaken by the morning's events. She indulged in the security of his embrace, of his reassuring kisses, until he gently raised his head, brushing back her hair and soothing her wrinkled brow.

"Hey, you all right?" he asked her softly, noting how her green gaze was a little on the watery side.

She sighed, closing her eyes and touching her forehead to his. "Yes, now that you're here. This is all a huge mess, isn't it?"

"Yes, Little Miss Understatement," he said, grinning lightly. He lifted her chin with one finger. "Look at me. A year ago, and I would have been a torn-up mess right now. But you're keeping me sane here. Don't you go falling apart on me now."

"I'm not. I'm just relieved you're here." She tiptoed up to kiss him again.

The sound of a clearing throat interrupted them, and they jumped apart guiltily.

"Excuse me, Boss? Jane?" It was Van Pelt. Lisbon should have known better than to be making out with Jane in a public bathroom during a lockdown.

"What is it, Grace?" asked Jane with mild amusement.

"They've found Andrew Yost," she told them gravely.

A/N: Well, I've never written a true Red John murder before, so I hope you "Mentalist" trivia buffs and law enforcement experts don't find too many mistakes. And, if you do, I hope you will forgive me and focus more on the story I'm trying to tell. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten the other case in this fic.

Anyway, as I wrote this chapter, I realized that it was about a year ago that I started my first full-length "Mentalist" fic, "Red Ryder." I'm so appreciative to all you readers out there who have supported my writing in this fandom. You guys are the best! That being said, it would be lovely if you supported this fic with a review ;).


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So glad I surprised many of you with Red John and Bertram last chapter. Oops—if you haven't read it yet, you definitely missed a chapter! Please go back to chapter 7 first. This chapter also seems on the angsty side. Maybe it's the weather here (I hate it when it starts getting cold and all the pretty leaves are gone). Anyway, I promise, the next chapter will be more uplifting. Thanks to all who have reviewed-I promise I'll get to my replies very soon.

Oh, and the last part is on the "M" side, though nothing terribly embarrassing, I don't think. I'm just alerting you. Please, read on!

**Chapter 8**

Jane and Lisbon waited expectantly in the third floor Capitol Ladies' Room for Van Pelt to explain her dire announcement.

"They found Yost wandering the streets of his neighborhood, wearing only pajama bottoms," she told them. "He was barefoot and seemed totally out of it."

"Drugs?" asked Lisbon.

"They thought so at first," replied Van Pelt, "but he tested negative. They've actually had him in the psyche ward since early this morning when a patrolling cop picked him up. He's totally catatonic. Won't talk, won't respond to stimuli. Only reason they know who he is, is because the cop recognized him as Bertram's aide, and knew he lived in the area where they found him."

The trio left the restroom, walking back to the waiting area of Bertram's office.

"I want to see him," Jane was saying, but they all stopped short when they saw Luther Wainwright standing in the outer office, speaking with Joplin Carver. His eyes widened at the sight of Jane, then he looked at Lisbon in annoyance.

"What's he doing here?" asked Wainwright tightly.

Lisbon swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, sir, really. But this is a Red John case, and Jane is our expert here. That's the main reason we hired him for this team—"

"Consider me an _unpaid_ consultant," Jane said wryly. He glanced at Lisbon, who looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. "Look, I know I'm not supposed to be here, and I don't mean to cause any trouble for Agent Lisbon. But she's right—I've no doubt Red John did this, and frankly, I'd assume you'd want the best working to solve the director's murder."

Wainwright considered his logical plea a moment. His face turned grim as his eyes went to the door of his dead boss's office. "The governor has appointed me temporary director," he announced. "I've been fielding the press downstairs for the last half hour—I hate that crap; that's not what I signed up for." He grimaced, then focused again on Jane. "I heard the _B and E_ charges were dropped against you this morning."

"Yeah," Jane answered simply. No need to offer his speculation as to how that might have happened.

Wainwright shook his head in something akin to wonder. "It's like you have nine lives, Mr. Jane."

"Well, probably less than half that by now," came Jane's dry rejoinder.

He looked at Lisbon and Jane a moment, considering. "May I have a private word with you, Agent Lisbon?"

"Certainly, sir."

She walked with him to the hallway. "Look, I don't like the fact that you've been working with Jane behind my back. You might have come to me and we could have made some special arrangements."

"You're right, sir. But honestly, I wasn't sure how you'd react. I don't know you well enough to know if you'd share my faith in Jane's abilities. We've had two tough cases this week, and he's the best, sir. We really do need him."

"I understand, I do. But if we're going to make this team work, you're going to have to learn to trust me. So, in the spirit of honesty, I'll let you in on a little secret. The governor told me I was the fourth person he asked to fill Bertram's position. Nobody else wanted it. Too much negative attention has been thrown on the CBI lately—allegations of inside corruption, their top consultant charged with murder, associated cops and FBI agents killed, unit directors in an out of here like a revolving door, not to mention the recent strike. No one wants to risk their careers—and now, with Bertram's murder, their lives—for the hassles that come with this job. So, until the governor can find someone with more experience, I'm it."

"I'm sure you'll do a great job," Lisbon said, but she honestly had her doubts.

He laughed softly. "You know as well as I do I'm probably in way over my head on this. Sure, it's the dream job, but I didn't see it coming for at least another twenty years. So, since I'm also still head of Serious Crimes, I'm going to need your help and advice, Agent Lisbon, as well as your leadership."

"You've got it, sir."

"Thank you. Now, as to Jane…I'm fully aware what a risk it would be to allow him to work for the CBI again, but my main reason for working in law enforcement is to get the bad guys. Jane gets the bad guys. He hasn't gotten Red John yet, apparently, but I believe in my gut he's the only one who can."

"You don't have any trouble with the fact that Jane killed the wrong man?" She had to ask.

"Timothy Carter may not have been Red John, but he deserved what he got, in my off-the-record opinion. So, here's what I'm going to do. The CBI will retain Jane as a private consultant, on a case-by-case basis, subject to my direct approval. And when I say private, I mean _private._ I'm leaving it up to you, Agent, to see that he stays out of the spotlight, toes the line, but most importantly, he continues to solve cases. If he were to catch the real Red John now, imagine what a boon it would be to the CBI. We need something to repair our image in the public's eye, to lift agency morale, and Jane needs to give us a reason to hire him back on a more permanent basis."

"Thank you, sir. Really." Lisbon felt like crying in relief, but she maintained her stoic expression. She nodded toward the room where Jane waited for the verdict. "You want to tell him or shall I?"

"We both can. I'll be good cop, you can be bad cop, and give him my conditions in a more private setting. Unfortunately, I have a new job to do, and I have the feeling my work load is about to be quadrupled."

"Please don't hesitate to ask for my help sir," she said sincerely. "And for the record, you have the makings of becoming a very great leader. Don't sell yourself too short."

He grinned ironically. "I appreciate the confidence. Now, let's go give Mr. Jane the good news."

"Okay. And by the way, I'm used to playing bad cop with Jane. It's the very foundation of our relationship." Wainwright noticed how she tried to hide her affectionate little smile, and his eyes narrowed speculatively.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Memorial Hospital Psychiatric Ward was a depressing place, to say the least. It certainly brought back painful memories for Jane. It was ironic, really, that today he'd observed a Red John murder scene, and then he was suddenly in a psyche ward. He felt eerily like history was repeating itself. He shivered a little, then promptly violated Lisbon's rules of public displays of affection, and took her hand. He was relieved when she let him, despite her look of concern.

Jane and Lisbon followed the orderly who led them through white-painted halls across white-tiled floors, past some doors that were windowless and closed, and some that were open to allow the patients to watch the world pass them by.

Jane tried not to look into each open room, tried not to see the lost men and women who sat staring sightlessly out the windows, or curled up in the fetal position on their hospital beds. He tried to ignore the muffled shrieks and cries of the despondent behind closed doors, his only reaction in the light squeezing of Lisbon's hand.

They stopped at Andrew Yost's room and the orderly, a large, muscular man, with an air of one who had seen it all, turned now to face them.

"Mr. Yost hasn't said anything since they brought him in. He just seems to want to sit at the table and stare at the wall. Don't expect to get much out of him."

"Thank you," Lisbon said. "I think we can handle it from here."

The man shrugged. "Holler if you need anything."

There was another chair at Andrew's small table, and Lisbon nodded that Jane's place was there, while she sat gingerly on the foot of the hospital bed to watch.

Jane looked into Andrew's wide eyes, waving his hand in front of the man's face.

"Andrew?" he said. Jane moved in closer, looking at Andrew's blank expression from several different angles.

"He's not catatonic, Lisbon. Well, not in the medical sense. He's been hypnotized."

"Hypnotized? Can you bring him out of it?"

"I'll try, but as you saw that time with Rigsby, it takes the original hypnotizer to undo it. Very much like it takes the original witch to withdraw a spell."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "I didn't know you were such a big fan of _Buffy."_

Jane's only reply was a small, mysterious smile as he set to work, tapping Andrew on various parts of his arms, legs, and torso. He snapped his fingers and clapped his hands, but got no response from Bertram's assistant. He looked over at Lisbon again, this time, his eyes were glowing with barely suppressed excitement.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"We've found Red John's second mistake." He nodded at the hypnotized man before him.

"Andrew? How?"

"Red John did this, I have no doubt. He was planning to use him in the same way he was using Kristina, but something thwarted him, and he had to leave poor Andrew in this embryonic state. At least with Kristina, there was some way to communicate with her. His work with Andrew had only just begun."

"Okay…but what does it mean? We still don't know what he planned to do with Kristina."

Jane shook his head. "I have no idea. But just like with Kristina, Red John is fairly certain that Andrew won't identify him, so he hasn't killed either of them yet, like he has his other minions. No, this is something different he's experimenting with, and I would bet it started with Kristina. He's re-creating people now. Trying to make followers who are even more mindless than those brainwashed drones he sends to do his dirty work. The fact that he chose Bertram's assistant tells me that he is searching for a way to create more reliable, controllable moles to infiltrate the CBI." _And my life, _he added to himself.

"So why kill Bertram?" she asked. "It seems to me that if he were grooming Andrew here, he'd need a director to spy on, right?"

"You would think so. But something went wrong with his grand scheme, and he felt the need to take out Bertram prematurely."

Lisbon's earlier thoughts came back to mind. "It was because of you," she told him.

"Me?" But she could tell by his expression that he agreed. She went on with her theory anyway.

"Well, yeah, of course. He saw what Bertram was doing to you, manipulating you, firing you. He killed Bosco for the same type of thing."

Jane dropped his head, running his hands tiredly over his face and into his perpetually tossled hair. He'd spent a long, mostly sleepless night at the county jailhouse, and the adrenalin that had come with finding Red John's latest victim and discovering new insight and leads was finally draining out of him, leaving him physically and emotionally exhausted.

Jane sighed heavily. "Yeah. I've actually had similar thoughts. That's one more death on my head, I suppose."

She got up and went over to him, drawing him to his feet.

"That isn't what I meant. You are not to blame for what that psychopathic killer does. What I am trying to reiterate is how much he takes pleasure in toying with you. He wants you where he can keep an eye on you, watch you squirm."

"Yes."

"How do we fight this?" Lisbon said. "How can this ever end with you two?"

"You know the answer to that."

She did, and the thought of having to go through what they had a few months ago seemed a terrifying proposition. It always came back to this: it was either Jane's life or Red John's; there was no possibility of peaceful coexistence.

"Are you finished with him?" She asked, looking sadly at Andrew. "It's a little creepy having this conversation in front of him."

Jane looked dispassionately at Andrew, the poor soul, another victim of Red John's need for power, for control.

"Yeah, I don't think there's any more I can do for him. But who knows, maybe someday he'll snap out of it."

Lisbon touched the young man on the shoulder. There was no reaction. If he didn't come out of this, he'd likely be in some sort of hospital the rest of his life. "It's so sad. Van Pelt said he had no parents living, no family around here to care for him."

"Just like Kristina," Jane observed. Red John chose his prey wisely.

With one more glance at the hapless victim, Jane and Lisbon left the disheartening room. This time, she was the one who reached for his hand.

No one was there with Andrew to hear his mouth form the silent words: _dead mouse._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Their next stop was Andrew Yost's home, but neither of them had any hope of finding anything that would lead them closer to Red John. Unfortunately, their instincts were correct. They returned at last to CBI Headquarters, where they found a gloomy atmosphere there as well, made even more so by the rain that now pounded against the windows. It was late afternoon, but so dark outside that it seemed like late evening.

The rest of the team had gathered around the conference table for a late lunch of Chinese take-out, waiting for Lisbon or Wainwright to reappear and tell them what was next on the agenda. Cho and Rigsby had spent all day with Capitol Security, interviewing the increasingly irate captives of the lock-down, and had come away with no leads to show for it. Van Pelt had gone over and over the video from midnight to nine a.m., but had of course, seen no one suspicious. It would take weeks to sit with an expert on state employees and facial recognition software to identify all the people caught on camera, so until then, she would divide her time between that overwhelming project and searching Bertram's home and work computers. So far, she had turned up nothing there, either.

"Oh, hi Boss. Jane," she said, reaching for a couple of paper plates. "There's plenty left here if you're hungry."

She noted how frayed around the edges the couple seemed, and Jane gratefully poured himself a cup of Jasmine tea Van Pelt had thoughtfully brewed. He loaded his plate with steamed rice and chow mein, settling back into the chair tiredly. Lisbon soon joined him, her plate filled with almond chicken.

"Coroner's preliminary report gives time of death at approximately one a.m.," Rigsby announced.

Lisbon nodded. That was expected. "Anything else?"

"Search of Bertram's home turned up nothing relevant." He gave Jane and Lisbon a meaningful glance, in which he seemed to be saying, _no incriminating photographs._

"Thanks, Wayne," said Lisbon softly.

"Did you get anything from Andrew?" asked Van Pelt.

"No," replied Jane. He went on to explain his theory about the similarities between Andrew and Kristina Frey's conditions.

"Just reaffirms how sick that bastard is," commented Rigsby.

Cho shook his head slightly, his soulful brown eyes sympathetic to all involved.

"What now?" he asked Lisbon.

"I suppose we follow up the search of Bertram's house with our own, wait to see if the autopsy reveals anything unusual from Red John's previous killings, see if Van Pelt can find anything from Bertram's computers. Wait, wait, wait," she finished, her aggravation slipping out unbidden.

That pretty much said it all. It was frustrating that, despite new insights into Red John's operations and motives, they seemed no closer to catching him than they had when the team first got the case eight years before. It brought a definite pall over the small gathering.

"Has the report come in from forensics regarding the Hunter murders?" asked Jane.

"No," replied Cho.

Despite Red John's reappearance, the deaths of Brooke and Kayla Hunter still weighed heavily on his mind, and it was actually difficult for the two cases not to weave together in his subconscious. It was too close to home, all of it.

Jane regarded his coworkers. They seemed to be taking his failure to kill the real Red John in stride. He wouldn't blame them if they were upset with him; they'd risked a lot to get him out of jail for that. But no one was broaching the subject, and since it didn't seem as if they were angry, Jane chose to let the situation speak for itself. He'd made a mistake, and families forgave each other their mistakes. It sincerely touched Jane that they were once again forgiving him. He didn't deserve their regard, and he knew it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time Jane and Lisbon made it back to her apartment, they were both cold, drenched to the skin, and exhausted. At the CBI, they'd been able to park in the parking garage to avoid the November downpour; no such luck at her apartment complex. Ordinarily, Jane would have found running through the rain with Lisbon extremely romantic. This night, numbing cold only added to the numbness he felt inside.

Neither spoke as they undressed together in her bathroom, and for once there was nothing sexual about it. They shared the shower since they were both cold and there was only one bathroom, both of them shivering at first in the heated water, mindlessly absorbing how it gradually warmed their skin. When the water began to cool, they emerged one by one into the steamy room, absently drying and grabbing their terry cloth robes from the back of the door.

Lisbon stayed to dry her hair while Jane went to the kitchen to make tea for himself, hot chocolate for her. While the water was heating, he went to her bedroom and found his pajamas, slipping them on tiredly while the soothing sound of the hairdryer continued in the next room. He laid out her sweat pants her favorite long sleeved t-shirt and fuzzy socks, then went back into the kitchen to finish making their hot drinks.

He stood in the kitchen, sipping his tea, when he heard the dryer stop, the bathroom door open. Five minutes passed, then ten, and Jane wondered if she'd just crawled into bed without saying good-night. But no, that wouldn't be like her. Something was wrong. He padded on bare feet down the short hall to her room, and he saw her there, still wrapped in her robe, sitting on the end of the bed, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Hey," he whispered. "Teresa."

He sat beside her and brushed aside the tears with his thumb. She leaned against him, sobbing. He wondered how many times before they'd fallen in love that she'd come home after a hard day to this empty apartment and cried herself to sleep. He knew he couldn't begin to count his own episodes, and he realized now how much it would have meant to have had someone to hold him like this. So he kissed her wet cheeks, slid his hand through her silky hair, murmuring comforting words as she cried.

Jane purposefully avoided kissing her mouth, wanting her to feel his comfort, not his desire, but Lisbon apparently had different ideas of what comfort meant, and pulled his lips to hers. She tasted of tears and he of chamomile, and the flavors blended as tongues met and tangled heatedly. He pushed her gently back on the bed, following her down, his hand sliding into her open robe to cup one firm breast. She gasped a little as his thumb encircled her nipple, and she reached up to unbutton his pajama top.

Soon, skin met skin as they clung to each other, letting their mutual passion take them away from thoughts of death and fear and frustration. Outside, the rain beat against the window in time to the sound of their pounding hearts.

"I need you," she murmured against his mouth, opening her thighs beneath him so he could feel how much. His only answer was to moan and slip inside her body, his heart near bursting with his own sharp need.

He laced his hands in hers as he moved above her, looking deeply into her watery eyes, as she looked back into his. The past several days had caught up with him too, and his movements became more frenzied as he tried to blot it all out. In the end, he was successful, for all he could see in that moment were her misty green eyes; all he could hear were her soft cries and sensual gasps; all he could feel was her warmth surrounding him, seeping into his body until all that existed in the world was the solace he'd found in the loving arms of this woman.

A/N: Okay, folks, just one more chapter for this rather melancholy fic. Thanks for hanging in here with me on this, and for all your awesome reviews.

I'm thinking that my next story will be a flashback fic, where Lisbon and Jane meet for the first time. I'm sure there have been other stories that deal with that, and if you know of them, please share the titles with me. I want to see how others have dealt with it so I won't be inadvertently copying someone else's approach. I would really appreciate it. Thank you!


	9. Conclusion Epilogue

A/N: Well, the end is nigh—at least for this particular installment of my series. It's been fun reading your speculations about what might happen. I hope you like how I tied up some of the loose ends, but left some unraveled for possible future fics. Thanks for all the great reviews/favorites/alerts, etc. I wouldn't do this without you!

**Chapter 9**

"Where the hell are those pictures?" Lisbon asked later.

She lay curled around Jane in her bed, her head resting on his warm chest, one hand absently caressing his stomach. A light rain still pattered against her window in the darkness.

"They might still be in Bertram's house somewhere. We'll take a look ourselves."

But she wouldn't let it go at that. "You think he has them, don't you?"

Of course, she meant Red John.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"What will he do with them?" she asked, a small hitch in her voice.

Jane had been contemplating that himself. More blackmail? It would certainly be a way to keep Jane from coming too close to foiling Red John's next plans. But just the idea that he had them could go a long way toward messing with their heads, like it was already doing right now.

"I don't know," he replied, because he really didn't. He kissed the top of her apple-scented hair, then began a soothing stroke of her smooth back until they both fell into dreamless slumbers, their worries unable to compete with exhaustion.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Jane insisted on making toast and scrambling a few eggs, knowing they would both need strength that wouldn't come from coffee alone. Lisbon ate, but she tasted nothing. Automatically, she flipped on the small television in the kitchen.

Of course, Betram's murder at the hands of the notorious serial killer was all over the news. The television reports inundated them with Bertram's biographical info and pictures from his past. Some tasteless reporter even interviewed the grieving widow. Then, Jane's photo appeared, and the speculation abounded as to whether he had in fact killed the real Red John. Was Bertram's killer merely a copycat, or had the vigilante killing of Timothy Carter been a terribly ironic miscalculation by the former psychic? Jane snorted a little at that, and Lisbon reached over to turn off the TV.

"Hey," Jane protested halfheartedly, "it was just starting to get good."

"I've heard enough of that claptrap. Let's get to work. Thanks for the eggs."

"But you haven't even finished them." If she weren't so upset, she might have laughed at his mother hen tone.

"I've lost what little appetite I had."

She slid back from the table and took her plate to the sink. Jane sighed and took a final sip of his tea. As she walked past him, he grabbed her wrist.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, looking up at her with serious eyes.

"Yes, I am now. And…thank you for last night. I didn't mean to fall apart like that."

He rose to stand beside her, his hand going to her cheek. "You're welcome; it happens to the best of us sometimes. And for the record, as with all things Agent Lisbon, you do catharsis very well." He gave a semblance of his usual mischievous grin, and she couldn't help her answering small smile.

"Any excuse to get into my pants," she teased.

"You weren't wearing any pants."

"Oh, shut up," she said, kissing him to silence. For once, he didn't mind being told to shut up.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It thrilled Jane to no end that Lisbon allowed them to arrive in the same vehicle that morning. He tried to keep her improved mood going by teasing her about the merits of carpooling and how she was finally doing her duty as a citizen of the world by cutting down on carbon emissions. She rolled her eyes and didn't argue, but squeezed his hand briefly before they got out of the gas-guzzling SUV.

The moment they entered the bullpen, Rigsby came forward, waving a paper in his hand.

"Hey, Boss. Forensics just came in on the Hunter case. Skin beneath their fingernails and semen on the bodies match Cooper's DNA. Also, Auburn PD found an ATV in a storage unit registered to Cooper. Its tracks match those found at the scene. That's how he was able to get in and out of the campsite without going on the main road and being seen by the park ranger."

"Let's go get him," she said, her hand resting automatically on the gun at her hip.

"Where? He could be anywhere by now," Rigsby said. "He's probably fled the country."

"I've had a tail on him since we released him," Lisbon told him. "I got a text this morning that he's holed up in his house in Auburn."

Cho nodded from his desk. This was why Lisbon was such a good agent. They all wanted to be in on his arrest, so all of the team grabbed their jackets and weapons and headed back down to the parking lot. Jane moved to follow them.

"You don't have to go with us," Lisbon said, but she knew already that he had a vested interest in this case.

"Just try and stop me," he said casually, but she recognized the familiar determination in his blue-green eyes.

"Fine, but stay out of the way."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt, all armed, Kevlar vests in place, weapons at ready, stood outside Bryson Cooper's front door. A few Auburn police took the back entrances, while Jane remained safely across the street, peeping over the company SUV.

Lisbon pounded on the door. "Cooper, open up. CBI." When there was no response, she tried again. She nodded at Cho and Rigsby, who promptly knocked the door in with their battering ram. The team entered and found Bryson Cooper standing in the middle of his living room, his gun pointed firmly at his own head.

"Just be cool, Bryson," Lisbon said softly. "You don't have to do this. We'll take you in, get you the help you need."

The big man laughed. "I'm beyond helping, Agent Lisbon. And you know how they treat child molesters in prison."

"No one's beyond—"

With a final laugh, Bryson Cooper pulled the trigger.

"Goddamit!" Lisbon cried. "Somebody call an amubulance."

Van Pelt pulled out her cell phone, while Lisbon rushed to their suspect and knelt beside him. Blood was already pooling on the beige carpet beneath his head, but his eyes were open and alert, and he focused on Lisbon's face. Cho tossed her a dishcloth from the kitchen, and she held it to the exit wound on the side of his head. Hearing the shot, the Auburn policemen stormed in through the back door, pausing at the vision before them. A few pulled out their radios and phones, notifying their HQ of what had gone down.

"Hang in there, Cooper," Lisbon muttered. "Paramedics are on the way." The others began dispersing, naturally believing their prime suspect was a goner. Case closed. When the men and Van Pelt began pouring out of the house, Jane came cautiously from behind the SUV, walked across the street and up the front steps. Risbsy and Cho shook their heads, confirming that Cooper was a dead man. Jane entered the house just in time to hear Cooper's hoarse laughter. The dying man choked on the blood in his throat, and some trickled from the corners of his mouth,

"Shh," Lisbon was saying. "Don't try to talk."

"Aw," Cooper said, his cold eyes focusing on Jane, "the lovebirds are both here." Jane and Lisbon looked at each other in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" asked Jane, his body going tense.

"Agent Lisbon," Cooper gasped, using the last of his strength to pull her down closer to his mouth.

"Red John was right," he whispered brokenly. "Your…pictures… don't do you… justice…"

She pulled back from him violently, his hand slipping from her arm as the light faded from Cooper's steel blue gaze.

"Cooper!" she yelled, shaking his body. "Cooper!"

Van Pelt, Rigsby, and Cho rushed in at her harsh cry. Jane had dropped down to her side, pulling her away from the body as he felt for the man's pulse.

"He's dead," Jane pronounced, worriedly watching Lisbon's shaking frame as she sat on the floor nearby. Before he could move to help her, Van Pelt had beaten him to it.

"You all right, Boss?" Van Pelt asked, pulling Lisbon to her feet.

"Yes," she finally managed. "He…he… mentioned Red John," she said in horror, her eyes glued to Jane's.

"What?" Jane said in shock, rising slowly from his crouched position.

Lisbon glanced meaningfully at the curious onlookers from the Auburn PD. "I'll, uh, tell you all later," she murmured to her stupefied team.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time the coroner took Cooper's body away and they'd taken their leave of the crime scene, Jane was fairly chomping at the bit. He'd finally gotten the opportunity to search the man's house, but had found nothing to link him to Red John, and no clue as to his motive for killing his girlfriend and her child.

But Jane was beginning to formulate a terrible idea of his own. If Bryson Cooper had been part of Red John's network, the only explanation for the deaths of Brooke and Kayla Hunter was to keep him from giving up on staying with the CBI. Did that mean that if he ever decided to leave for good, more people would die on his behalf? Why was Red John so driven to keep Jane…_driven_?

Jane was certainly used to his nemesis messing with his mind, manipulating him. He had to know that the brutal murders of a mother and daughter would have been irresistible to Jane, that it was the one type of case (besides a murder by Red John himself) that would keep him fighting to stay. He felt shaken to the core that he was being used in this way, that more people were dying because of the sadistic link between himself and a murderer.

His mind and stomach were churning by the time they drove away, and the first nearly empty parking lot he saw, he had Cho pull in and stop. He turned to Lisbon, who had been silently dealing with her own demons beside him.

"Now, tell us exactly what Cooper said," he demanding tightly, but he took her cold hand in his to show his concern for what had upset her so. She took a deep breath.

"Cooper told me that Red John said…the pictures don't do me justice."

"He has the pictures," Van Pelt gasped.

"So it would seem," said Jane numbly. It was confirmation of what they'd suspected, but it was chilling to imagine the faceless killer looking at something so private, so passionate that had occurred between him and the person he loved most in the world. And so Red John knew about them, could use that against him to threaten, to blackmail, to hurt him by hurting her. It was his greatest fear come heart-wrenchingly to life.

"We need to start digging more into Cooper's past, into his associations," Rigsby said from the seat behind them. "Red John has made mistakes before; he's bound to make one again."

"I'll get right on that when we get back to Sacramento," said Van Pelt.

"Rigsby and I will do the legwork," Cho volunteered, meeting Jane's eyes in the rearview mirror. He nodded back gratefully. Lisbon was still a little numb, but she began to pull out of it as her team jumped in to begin doing what needed to be done, risking their lives as they always did to protect her, to protect this team.

"Thank you," she said.

"It's what we do," Rigsby said simply. Turning around in the front seat, Van Pelt smiled back at her former lover, realizing that she loved him still, though they both realized a romantic relationship was as impossible as ever. Rigsby smiled gently in return.

Without another word, Cho restarted the car, pulling out into traffic as he took them all back home.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Epilogue**_

_Eight hours later…_

Jane figured that three days in the same suit were enough, and he reminded himself to suggest (subtly) that Lisbon allow him to leave a few things at her place. Just for practical reasons, of course. He knew neither of them was ready to live together, and he was just old-fashioned enough to want more than that from her someday. The wayward thought was a little jarring, and he automatically touched his wedding band. _Someday_…he thought again.

In the meantime, he pushed his key tiredly into the lock of his apartment, flipping on the light as he walked inside. His foot immediately landed on something cushy and unusual, and he looked down at his feet with a start. It was a large manila envelope, sealed and unmarked, except for his own newly made footprint. Someone had obviously slipped it under his door.

He looked around outside a moment, and, seeing no one, he quickly shut and locked the door behind him. He bent and picked up the envelope, his hands shaking slightly with his feelings of sudden dread. He took it to the kitchen, turning on the light and gingerly opening the seal with a letter opener. He held it at the closed end, mindful of possible poisons or other things that might harm him, and he gently shook out its contents. Four familiar black and white photographs slid out onto the table, along with an identification badge from the CBI and another item that seemed terrifyingly familiar: a typewritten note on plain printer paper. His heart sped up as his eyes took in the black words on the stark white page:

_Dear mister Jane:_

_It is unfortunate for both of us that Gale Bertram found his hatred of you more important than his loyalty to me. I have returned the items that he took from you. I thought by now you would have learned to take better care of what is most important to you, mister Jane. _

Jane reread the note several times, allowing everything Red John had said and hadn't said a chance to sink in. It filled his mind so completely he felt staggered by it. He slowly sat down at the table, his eyes tracing every letter, every word, every sentence, until the meaning of it all was nearly lost in a jumble of unintelligible shapes. He tried to focus on one new fact at a time, his thoughts separating each fragment of information.

_Bertram had worked for Red John. There had been more than one mole in the CBI. He wants me to stay on his case, to continue working with the CBI. He knows about Lisbon and me. He's threatening us. Threatening __**her**__._

It was the last fact that he cared about most, and he wondered if he should tell Lisbon anything about this. The old Jane would have kept this news to himself, sat on it with the satisfaction that he knew something about Red John that others did not. He'd once thought that everything about Red Jane belonged to him and him alone.

Jane idly picked up his CBI ID and looked at the small photo in the corner, taken over a year ago. He noted the lines around the eyes, the faint darkness beneath them—a sign of too many sleepless nights—and the melancholy expression. That was the I-can't-trust-anyone-with-anything-Jane. He was definitely a different man than the one in his ID photo.

His eyes went back to what could certainly be termed as _after_ photos—the pictures of him making love to Teresa. He made himself look at the pictures dispassionately. The lines were still there around his eyes, of course, and his body definitely showed he wasn't a young man anymore, but the look _in_ his eyes was what counted. This was a man wildly in love, obsessed more with a woman than with a murderer. Despite the added ten pounds, he knew he was much healthier now than he'd been in nearly ten years.

He felt himself smiling now, even in the midst of all the mayhem that Red John had wrought. The old Jane would definitely not be doing that.

He reached into his pocked for his cell phone, speed-dialing the number of his newest obsession.

"Jane," she said, her voice warm and welcoming, despite the stress she was under.

"Hello, sweetheart," he replied, trying to infuse all the love he felt in the two-word greeting. He sighed. "I have some good news, and some bad news…"

**THE END**

A/N: I hoped you liked this ending! As you can see, I've left it with the possibility of continuing this series sometime in the future, perhaps after a few more of this season's episodes have aired and I find more to incorporate into my own storytelling. I hope you'll put me on author alert so you'll be aware of any other fics I might write. Thank you all for reading this. Your support is what keeps me writing.

P.S. You have to check out the synopsis for the upcoming episode 4x10! Do a search for redblog, a great site for news and spoilers. Remember, this is the episode that Simon Baker said had his favorite Jane/Lisbon moment. The episode sounds totally off-the-wall, but has the potential to be hilarious. I'm so excited, I can't even tell you. See you for the next tag, and hopefully another full-length fic very soon!


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